When Worlds Collide
by WingedNinja28
Summary: Danny thought his life would get better after he saved the world. That's what everyone told him, anyway. They lied. Landing in Jump City was really a coincidence. Meeting five teenagers that made him look normal? That was fate. When worlds collide and secrets are revealed, only one question remains: will the heroes put aside their differences to save the ones they love the most?
1. When Heroes Meet

**Oh my God, I'm sorry! I know it's not a good idea for me to start yet another story, but I just couldn't get this little nagging idea to leave me alone. I just couldn't help myself! Okay, maybe I'm not all that sorry... at all, if I was being quite honest.  
Anyway... This is my attempt at originality at a mainstream concept. OH! And... Make sure you tell me if you have a better title. I just couldn't think of one. Any song titles that you think would fit?**

**Summary: Danny thought his life would get better after he saved the world. That's what everyone told him, anyway. They lied. Landing in Jump City was really a coincidence. Meeting five teenagers that made him look normal? That was fate. When worlds collide and secrets are revealed, only one question remains: will the heroes put aside their differences to save the ones they love most?**

**And without further ado...**

* * *

_**When Heroes Meet**_

_**By: WingedNinja28**_

* * *

I flew through the sky, my hair whipping away from my face in a snow-white frenzy.

Flying was one of the few things I found joy in anymore. It was mindless for me, easier than walking. It was just… Free. And, after everything I'd been through, freedom was, simply, bliss.

Freedom's a basic human right that I've been denied for too long. And now that I had it, I intended to never let it go.

Everyone told me that things would get better for me, after I saved the world. _Everyone told me _that my life would shoot for the sky, now that the secret was out. They lied. Unintentionally, yes, but a lie is still a lie.

I've lost you, haven't I? Let me just start over with the… _least _painful part of the story.

Ever since I reviled my biggest secret—a _huge _mistake, on my part—it wasn't long before the government figured out my biggest weakness. Once they figured it out, they picked at it until I had no choice but to do as they said. Until I had _no choice _to give in, and be the little lab rat that they always wanted.

They used everyone I knew, everyone I cared about, _every innocent person _living in the town I worked _so damn hard_ to protect as leverage to get to me. In the end, the choice was mine. Option one: I could let _them _take me. I could suffer and possibly die, and see them leave my town alone. Option two: I could walk away, untouched, scratched, while my home went up on flames, and everyone I knew was reduced to ash.

Needless to say, I didn't even blink. Not a second thought entered my mind, and, to this day, I still have no regrets.

Agents O and K led me away in ghost-proof handcuffs, and my life was destroyed.

That was over a year ago.

_I_ even thought it would get better, now that everyone knew my half-ghost status, now that the world was safe… But I was a C student, remember?

That was the least painful part of the story, simply because I saw the people of my town was out of harm's way. Safe… right?

Now, I'm not going to get into the next part. It's just too painful for me to put into much detail, but I will say this: I went to hell and made it back alive. Half alive… whatever.

Okay, that's enough of my inner monologue for now. I should just focus on the present. _Be optimistic. _That was one of the few things that have kept me sane since my escape, just looking on the bright side and living in the present.

But in reality, I just couldn't afford to slip into another post-traumatic memory relapse at the moment– seeing as though, now, I'm suspended 10,000 feet in the air over who-knows-where. I smiled slightly at the thought of my tombstone reading "_Daniel Fenton, world-saving hero. Cause of death: randomly falling from the sky." _

To tell you that I knew where I was would be lying. But I thought I was somewhere close to the west coast. I didn't really have a specific destination in mind. I just knew that I couldn't go home. No, _they'd _find me there. In fact, I was almost certain that Amity Park would be the first place they'd look for me. Regardless of the deal I made with the Guys in White (a secret division in the government specializing in the supernatural or anything non-human) over a year ago, that still wouldn't stop them from leveling Amity Park if they caught any whim whatsoever of my being there.

So now, I just wonder. Stick to the shadows and all that jazz. Sometimes I'll invisibly jump in to help anyone who needs it, but other than that… I might as well not exist.

I sighed and slowed my steady flying to a peaceful float. I turned on my back, relaxing in the air, with my eyes turned to the flawless light sapphire/amethyst sky. The sun sat low in the sky, portraying early evening. Maybe six o'clock, if I were to guess. I was floating above the cloud line, making it hard for me to see the ground below me through the thick blanket of white-turning-pink cotton-like clouds.

_"Guuuuurgle…." _I groaned. Oh, that's right; I haven't eaten since yesterday… Huh. Oops?

_"Guuuuurgle…."_ _Whatever stomach, _I thought, _be that way. _I righted myself in the air, and willed invisibility to wash over my form. I didn't have any food left in the make-shift backpack I _acquired _from the local Wal-Mart, so I would have to eat out. Not that I minded, a little human interaction's good for a teenager every once in a while.

Did I have any money? I would have to check when I land. And if not, then who knows? Maybe I'll luck out and find a twenty on the ground… Or in someone's pocket—wait, what? You didn't hear anything. I didn't steal… Unless necessary. At least I didn't pull the "Well, I saved the world, so you owe me one" card.

I would never pull that card. That's the level _below _stealing, in my opinion. That's like… _Vlad's _level. In the world today, a year after the Disasteroid, the name "Vlad Masters" is like any other profanity like "shit", "bitch", or "fuck".

I used my intangibly as I lowered myself through the cloud line. Have you ever flown through a cloud before? Well, you only make that mistake once. I mean seriously, I may have ghost powers, but I still didn't want to get drenched.

I stopped in the air, having regained visibility. Hah! I _was _on the west coast. I could see the pacific shoreline below me. I also saw a large city lining the coast, to my relief. Good, there should be _plenty _of food there. I dipped into a dive, speeding towards the ground at speeds that would have made Superman proud.

Coming to a sudden halt just fifty feet above the ground, I lowered myself to a simple hover an inch above the empty street. I looked around me, thinking it was time to see where I _actually _was.

But I fell short. The buildings around me reached towards the sky, their mighty designs seeming to touch the boundless masses of space. If I didn't know any better, I would say I was in New York. But, looking down, I found that I did know better.

The streets were almost abandoned. It seemed as though the approaching night was driving everyone into their homes. What happened to the Friday night traffic that was supposed to run down this very street? Was it even Friday? Well, I could be wrong. It could be any day. Floating aimlessly through the sky with no real place to call home could make you lose track of time.

But there was something familiar about this town. Maybe it was the trashed streets, or the way the street lights blinked in the dusky night. Maybe it was the crater-like pot holes that littered the streets, or the black scorch marks burned into the sidewalks and buildings.

Oh, I knew _exactly _what was familiar about this place. It was the air, the atmosphere. There was a sense of unease in the air that just gave you the chills. I almost _expected _something bad to happen.

This place was _extremely _crime-ridden.

It was, more or less, just like a bigger version of Amity Park.

So this was just a little trip down memory lane… great.

I drifted into a nearby dark alley and paused. I willed my hearing to extend outwards, listing for any sounds at all. Other than the slight scuttle of a rat a few yards to my right, I was alone.

I dropped my invisibility and closed my eyes, allowing the thin, twin rings of blinding-white light to burst into existence around my waist. They traveled up and down my body, dimming my supernatural vision slightly, and diminishing my advanced hearing. I felt the warmth of human blood course throughout my body as my feet silently touched the ground.

I let out a breath and blinked. When was the last time I turned human? Two, three days ago? Huh.

I searched through the pockets of my baggy dark grey jeans in a last-ditch effort to find some cash. I shoved my hand into my back pocket, praying that I had something. Cause I knew for a fact that my deep green cameo backpack was close to empty.

_Success! _I thought, raising my newly found ten-dollar bill in the air, accomplishment radiating from my form. It's sad that this small feat would get me this exited, isn't it? Well, you gotta enjoy the little things. Like Twinkies, you don't know what you got 'til it's gone.

And this ten means that I didn't have to steal or dumpster-dive for my dinner. And in my book, that's something that should be celebrated.

Pulling the hood of my deep blue hoodie over my head and hiding my eyes behind my hair, I made my way out of the alley.

Now, I know you're wondering— if the world knows my secret, why hide?

To answer your unspoken question, I was captured and held in a secret government lab for… a little over a year now. No one could have known where I was, or I would've been freed a long time ago. As far as anyone knew, I just dropped off the face of the planet. After a while, everyone just assumed that the half-ghost savior of the world was dead. Did anyone even _try_ to look for me? To be honest, I can't answer that.

I had hoped that someone would find me, that someone would help me. But I ended up _helping myself. '_Cause that's really the only _help_ you can truly rely on.

When I found my way into the world again, I found that I was nothing but a memory. I was just a legend, a tall tale about how the world was saved, that one fateful day.

So, if anyone recognized me, the hero the _whole world_ thought was dead, don't you think my location would shoot up like a white-hot flare in the night sky? My picture would be plastered all over Facebook, Instagram, Pintrest, what have you. The G.I.W. would know exactly where I was, and they'd find me.

Oh, like hell they'd find me.

I need to create a new name, a new life. I haven't yet, because I ached for my old one.

I wanted my life back. I wanted my secret to still be a secret; I wanted to stay up all night fighting, with school and detention the next day. I wanted a bed to sleep in every night, an alarm clock to accidentally destroy every morning, an argument about meat versus veggies every afternoon, a dinner that tries to eat me every evening, and countless ghost fights to start the cycle again.

But all good things come to an end, right?

That's where I was now, the end.

Wait, what happened to being optimistic?

_Optimism, optimism, happy thoughts, optimism, optimism, glass half full, optimism, optimism… _

I really didn't know how well this was working.

Shoving my ten-dollar bill back in my pocket, I strolled down the street, deeper and deeper into the ever-growing dark night.

_Where to eat, where to eat… _There weren't many places _to _eat. Nothing that was open, anyway.

I came to a Y intersection and stopped. _Oh, well there's somewhere to eat. _I was facing a large, triangular, pizza-shaped restaurant sitting smack-dab in the middle of the Y intersection. The restaurant was given the _ever so creative _name "PIZZA". Well, okay. I made my way towards the restaurant, my stomach snarling angrily. I pondered ordering a hot dog, just to prove a point, but decided against it.

The small bell on the door chimed as I entered the awesome-smelling pizza place. The walls were painted a cheese-colored yellow-tan, and there were posters and pictures of food everywhere. The round, silver tables and sauce-red, patent-leather booths were mostly empty, aside for a few dinner-rush stragglers. None of which gave me second glance. Good, I didn't want attention.

I slid into a booth near the back of the pizza place, cornering myself slightly. That way, I'd get a full visual of the restaurant, I didn't have to cover my back, and I still remained as inconspicuous as possible. It was just a win-win-win, as far as I was concerned.

"Hi sir, welcome to PIZZA. Can I start you off with something to drink tonight?"

I looked up, and saw the unfocused, tired blue eyes of a blond teenage waitress who obviously wanted to go home. She gave me an impatient glare.

"I think I'll just have some water, thanks," I told her in a polite tone. I didn't want to make her long hours any longer.

"Yeah, I'll have that right out for you." And, casting a wary glance over her shoulder, she walked back to the kitchen.

I took a menu from the middle of the table and flipped through it.

I brushed my deep onyx hair out of my face, finding the restaurant empty enough for no one to recognize me.

As I allowed my crystalline-blue eyes to scan the menu to try to find something I liked and had enough money for, I heard the entrance bell of the restaurant ring again, and the footsteps of several people enter the pizza place.

I knew I shouldn't risk looking at whoever entered. It was a bad idea, because what if they recognized me? They'd call me out for sure. Maybe I should have stuck to dumpster-diving… I shuddered inwardly.

I almost groaned, feeling the post-traumatic paranoia setting in. I looked up, and I was almost knocked out of my booth. And I thought I was weird.

Five teens had entered the restaurant. I had never seen any of them before in my short, sixteen year-old life. I mean, I would have remembered if I did, because they were a sight to see.

The one seeming to lead the group looked about my age. He had wind-tossed, spiky black hair and a small white mask covered his eyes. He was wearing a red, yellow, and green battle suit, cape and all. The kid even had a pair of thick, steel-toed boots.

Following him, two more boys walked side-by-side. One was a huge cyborg-looking man. He looked about six-foot-four, and maybe eighteen, nineteen years old. He was built like Dash on steroids. He had metal arms, a thick, metal, barrel chest, and a face composed of metal and dark human flesh.

The other boy seemed like his polar opposite. The kid looked about fourteen, and about as scrawny as I was before the accident that gave me ghost powers. But that wasn't the weird part about him. _He was green. _His skin, hair, and eyes were _green!_ And his purple jumpsuit and black boots made him look like the scrawny, kid version of the Hulk.

Oh, and it only got weirder when I saw the last two. They were both girls, and again, they seemed like polar opposites. One was mesmerizingly perfect. She seemed too perfect to be human. She was tall; her face was flawless and air-brushed-looking. She had wide, energetic bright green eyes. She seemed to have overdosed a little on the spray-tan, her skin appearing a little too orange to be natural, but I found it didn't matter. She wore a two-piece purple-and-silver-trimmed shirt and skirt, flashing her flat stomach, and a pair of matching purple boots. Her flowing red hair trailed weightlessly behind her as she floated along with her group.

Wait… _floated?!_ This day is just getting weirder and weirder.

I think I see why this town was so empty when I came here.

The last girl… Well, I couldn't really tell what she looked like through her long, navy blue cloak that covered her from head to toe, literally. Like, I could hardly see _any _of her. The only part of her I _could _see was the bottom half of her shadowy, ashen face.

"Here you are, sir," said the waitress, drawing my attention away from the five bazaar teenagers by placing a tall glass of water on a coaster in front of me.

"Thanks," I muttered, trying not to look at her. "I think I'll have a slice of supreme pizza, extra cheese, but hold the mushrooms. And some jalapeños on the side would be great." Sounds like a normal order, right?

I saw her jot down my order, thankfully not seeming to paying me much attention.

"Will that be all for you tonight?" She casually looked up from her note-pad, meeting my eyes for the first time.

A small flare of recognition sparked in her eyes, but thankfully, it was gone as soon as it had come.

"Yeah, that's it. Thanks," I gave her a thumbs-up and a smile of dismissal. The waitress hurried away to fill the order.

I tried to keep my mind from wondering to the table of weird teens a few booths in front of me. I need to focus on more important things, like planning my next move. This town seems empty enough to stay here for the time being, maybe a couple of days before I'll move on. The longer I stay somewhere, the greater the chance that _they'll _find me. And I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me.

The sounds of voices reached my ears, and I looked up. The same tired, blond waitress was taking the orders of the five teens. She didn't seem so tired anymore, with her eyes fixated on the masked boy.

"Hey, guys!" She said excitedly, readying a new piece of paper on her note pad. "I was wondering when you five would show up. Long day?"

"You have no idea," Mask Boy said, a smile peaking at his lips. "'Seems like everywhere we turn, there's a new butt to kick."

_A new what to what? _

"Yeah!" Green Kid interrupted with enthusiasm, "You shoulda seen the last guy we fought. He was totally _weird! _He had, like, flaming green hair, and this huge missile launcher that popped out of his arm! I don't even know how he fit it _in _there!"

I froze, listing hard.

The waitress laughed, "Well, I suppose you guys gave him a run for his money, eh? So the usual, right? One large supreme pizza, extra mustard on the side," the waitress winked at the pretty red-head, who smiled as though pizza and mustard were the best things on the planet.

"One large pepperoni, one large meat-lovers and one medium veggie," She smiled. "How'd I do?"

"Sounds right to me," Mask Boy said, the thought of pizza almost making him drool.

"Great! I'll have that right out." And with a flirtatious flick of her blond hair and a smile for Mask Boy, she walked back to the kitchen.

Who the heck were those kids, and why was Skulker after them?

Whoa Fenton, calm down. They were probably not even talking about Skulker. I was just jumping the gun. I bet there were _plenty _of flaming green haired villains out there that carried missile launchers on their arms.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and I felt metaphorical holes being burned into my head.

Panicking slightly, my head jerked up. God, I hate paranoia. It's helpful sometimes, don't get me wrong, but it's a pain in the butt more often than not.

I saw Green Kid staring at me. Openly, I might add. With wide forest eyes trained on my icy orbs, his mouth opened as if to say something. I broke eye contact as the waitress arrived with my food, _still _giving me a weird look, like she knew who I was, but didn't want to say anything. And I appreciated that.

"Thanks," I told her, taking the pizza from her and smiling.

She nodded and walked away.

Not too interested in my pizza anymore, I allowed my hearing to extend outwards, well beyond that of any human. I know it was probably wrong of me to do, but, with my gaze turned carefully away from them, I listened in on the five teens' conversation.

"Dude, I'm_ telling you_, it's him!" Green Boy exclaimed in an exited whisper.

"And I'm _telling you_, it's not. You think _everyone _we see is 'the one.' Beastboy, he went missing over a year ago. There's no way he's still alive." That sounded like Autobot Man.

"Cyborg's right, BB. It's not him," Mask Boy said, an underlying curiosity etching at his voice. And, had I not been practiced in the art of speech-decoding, I would have missed the _"just shut up" _note in his voice. But I caught it.

I could feel the weight of all of their gazes on me now. Man, I should have left when I had the chance! I casually took a bite of pizza, panic starting to take its hold on my mind.

"But dude, it _has _to be him! You can't just save the world and disappear like that! He wouldn't just die!" Beastboy's voice was starting to rise above a whisper. Not that it mattered, I could hear him whether he whispered or not.

I swallowed a last bite of pizza before I stood up, leaving my ten on the table. She could keep the change. I just needed to get out of here. I didn't know _who _these people are, but they were getting _way _too close to the truth, _way _too fast.

Still keeping up my "cool and casual" façade, I hurried towards the exit of the pizza place.

"I think he heard you," The cloaked girl, I assumed, deadpanned in an emotionless voice as I reached for the door. I stopped.

"What gave you that idea?" I said without thinking, sarcasm dripping from my words as I pushed the door open, and hurried out. Little did I know the mess I was about to get myself into.

* * *

**Interesting...? Yes, no, maybe so? It's a pretty long first chapter (for me, anyway), and it was going to be longer... buuut I split it into two chapters instead! =) Check back. I should get the next chapter up... sometime... heh. Little rushed? Tell me in a review so I can fix that. If I switched from past to present tense too much, sorry! Didn't mean to! It's a weakness of mine if I skip right to typing and not actually writing out the chapter on paper first. Whateves, everyone has a process. Anyway, R&R! Peace out! (=**

**Daily random thought: Ever notice how an "&" sign looks like a random person dragging his butt across the floor? Look at it again.**


	2. It's Safe to Assume the Worst

**Well, hello again! Here's another chapter, hope not to disappoint! I don't generally update this fast, but I already had this done. I don't own anything recognizable (duh). And by the way, since Vlad is lost in space (muhaha), VladCo., and Dalv will have been handed over to the Fentons. Therefore, VladCo. and Dalv will now be called FentonCo and Notnef. Clever, huh? Not really, but I was just pondering what would have happened to those companies, and that's is what my brain came up with. And I use the term "Titans Everywhere", which refers to any and all metahumans associated with the Titans. **

**And without further ado...**

* * *

_**It's Safe to Assume the Worst**_

_**By: WingedNinja28**_

* * *

"What gave you that idea?" The boy asked rhetorically as he pushed open the door of the restaurant and left.

Beastboy stood up as if to follow the boy, determination radiating from the changeling, but Cyborg stopped him by gently pushing him back into his seat.

"Dude! It's him, it's _Danny Phantom! _World-saving extraordinar! He has to be!" Beastboy slumped back in the booth, knowing that struggling against Cyborg was _completely_ useless.

Robin spoke in a quick, hushed tone, as if afraid someone would overhear, "Beastboy, I know it's him. His face's been plastered on too many bill-boards for me _not _to recognize him. But we can't talk about this here."

Upon hearing this, Beastboy's glum face split into a full-out grin.

"Awe man, we're leaving?" Cyborg whined, "But I didn't even get my pizza yet!"

"We'll order another one," Robin said, unimpressed.

Cyborg scowled, "It's always better fresh."

"Forget about the pizza!" Beastboy yelled, frustrated that his friend could be thinking of food in a time like this. "This is important! This is about Danny Ph—" Beastboy was suddenly cut off by Starfire's hand covering his mouth.

"Jesus, Beastboy," Raven spoke in her quiet monotone voice. "Any louder and you'll wake the dead."

"No pun intended," Cyborg joked.

"Of course."

"This is serious, guys," Robin stressed, standing up and leaving a few green bills on the table to cover for the never-to-be-eaten pizzas. The Boy Wonder sent a pointed look to his team before making his leave.

The rest of the Titans followed in suit, Cyborg moaning and groaning the whole time.

* * *

Back at the Tower, the Teen Titans (namely Robin) were confused. Well, if the narrator were being quite accurate, it was Robin who was confusing himself as he paced the main room to and fro.

"It just doesn't make any sense," he was saying, "Phantom dropped off the face of the planet. _No one _could find him, and every one's looked. The FBI, the CIA, every investigator or private eye in the U.S., and just about everyone else was in on this case. FentonWorks, FentonCo., and Notnef were just the given search parties. But hell! Even the Doom Patrol, HIVE Academy, Titans Everywhere... Everyone short of the Justice League was involved. But it's just…" Robin trailed off, coming to a halt in front of the main window.

In the world today, Phantom was a legend. He was like Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, you name it. And when he disappeared… No one knew what to think. No one knew what Phantom was truly capable of, so a common kidnapping/ransom case was out of the question.

But now he's back, there was not a doubt in Robin's mind.

But… Why would he come to Jump City, and not Amity Park? It was common belief, in Robin's mind, anyway, that Phantom was simply a shape-shifting ghost, as he never revealed enough about his biological standpoint to the media to specify. So he believed that Phantom could morph from one appearance to another, giving him the ability to possibly live out two afterlives. One afterlife as a ghost pretending to be a kid, and the other as the local hero.

Sure, there were more theories out there. But at least this one made a remote amount of sense in Robin's mind. There was a theory floating around for a while that Phantom wasn't a _full-ghost, _whatever that means. He was a _half-ghost. _But that would be implying that Phantom was half-dead, which was impossible. You were either alive, or you were dead, it's that simple. So Robin simply threw that theory out the window.

All ghosts had an obsession, as Raven had told him when Robin first heard about the disappearance. An obsession or a _haunt. _Every ghost had one, as it was the basis of their foundation. It was widely assumed that Amity Park was Phantom's haunt. Therefore, after all this time, why would he come _here? _It just made no sense.

Robin stared at the panoramic island view out the window of Titans Tower. The view was amazing. A few streaks of golden sunlight were still clear in the deep blue sky, and the full, silvery-white moon was rising over the glassy waters of the ocean. It was just beautiful.

But Robin paid it no mind.

A thought struck him, and Robin almost slapped himself for not thinking of it before. He—

"Ya know, I think Phantom was just taken' a vacation," Cyborg broke Robin's train of thought, and reminding the Boy Wonder that his team was still present, watching silently from the couch as Robin tried to figure things out.

"I would agree with friend Cyborg. It is logical to only hope that this… _Phantom _is on the vacation of the relaxing, or even simply doing the 'passing through,'" Starfire spoke up.

"Alone?" Beastboy joined the conversation, "After one year, five months, two weeks and a day—not that I'm counting—you really think he'd turn up in Jump City for vacation? Alone, at that? I guess he _could _have been just passing through, but—"

"No," said Raven from her perch on the arm long grey couch in the middle of the high-tech main room. "I couldn't get much from him, but I sensed too many negative emotions for him to be 'just passing through.'" She paused for a moment, and then continued, "Amity Park is Phantom's haunt. If he's not in Amity, then something must have caused him to leave."

"So what you're saying is… that Phantom's not going _to _Amity, but _away _from it?" Raven nodded at Cyborg dumbfounded comment.

Robin faced his team, "If something's powerful enough to drive _Danny Phantom _away from Amity Park, then—"

"—we are in _way _over our heads," Beastboy cut him off.

"Then we need to find out whatever it is, and stop it." Robin finished with a masked glare at Beastboy.

The Titans were silent for a moment, "So… What do we do?" Cyborg finally asked.

"Well, we find him and ask what's up!" Beastboy said in his best "no freaking duh" tone.

"We need to approach this carefully," Robin said, "I don't think Phantom would take too well to all five of us confronting him at once. He'll see it as a threat, and he'll attack." Robin suddenly grew serious, "And we _do not _want Phantom as our enemy."

"One of us should go," Raven deadpanned. "It'll look less threatening."

The other Titans slowly nodded in agreement.

"Shall we connivance in the drawing of the straws of various sizes?" Starfire asked weakly.

Her question was rendered unanswered as dense, thick tension suddenly filled the room, as each Titan looked from one to another, silently wondering who would meet the incredibly powerful, _very _dangerous, and potentially deadly world-famous superhero.

Robin had barely opened his mouth when Beastboy's husky, child-like voice rang throughout the room, "I'll do it. I'll talk to him and get some answers."

_Damn. _Robin was hoping that no one would volunteer so he could find the hero himself. He had questions of his own that he would like answered. Another time, perhaps.

"Fine, Beastboy," Robin caved. Beastboy's face split into a grin at the thought of _actually talking _to Phantom.

Robin frowned at the changeling's enthusiasm. "Beastboy, this isn't something you should take lightly. We don't know what Phantom's capable of."

Beastboy's smile faded slightly, "So, what should I do?"

"Find him," Robin started, "Ask him a few questions. But don't threaten him in any way shape or form; don't give him a reason to attack. If things get out of hand, _do not engage him in battle. _Retreat and we'll figure out another way to help." Robin directed his attention to the team and continued, "World-famous superhero or not, while he's in Jump City, you will approach Phantom with extreme caution. _No one _knows what he's capable of_, _and we need handle the situation as such. Understood?" The Boy Wonder received four different head-nods with varying levels of enthusiasm.

Beastboy gulped, suddenly not as motivated to find his hero. If Robin was right, Phantom could make for a _very _dangerous enemy. Wow, Beastboy should really start to read the fine-print before signing up for something like this.

No, no he _had _to do this. Beastboy had always been the youngest Titan on the team, which has pretty much earned him the title as the _Weakest Titan_. He was just as competent as the rest of the Teen Titans; he was a valuable part of the team, and not just dead weight. And if confronting one of the most feared superheroes in the world was what it took to prove that fact to not only his team, but himself as well, then that's what he'll do.

"_Oh—kay_…So find, interrogate, don't threaten, don't fight, and leave. Did I miss anything…?

The Titans were silent. Taking that as his answer, Beastboy walked over to the wall near the over-sized panoramic-type window and pushed a small red button. The thick, bullet-proof glass (which Cyborg _finally_ installed shortly after the Titans' last battle Dr. Light) slid aside, vanishing from sight.

Beastboy rolled his shoulders and stepped to the edge of the window, about to jump out when—

"Wait."

Beastboy huffed and spun around, meeting the deep indigo-violet eyes of the resident spiritual expert.

"Yeah?"

"One more thing," Raven said, "What I _could _sense from Phantom was fear. Don't push him too hard to answer a question he doesn't want to answer. Make it look like an interrogation, and he'll make you look a pile of green bones."

Shoving his ever-growing panic as far away from his mind as mentally possible and stiffening his resolve, Beastboy nodded. "Right. Find, _question, _don't interrogate, don't threaten, don't fight, report back. Anything else?"

The changeling gasped as he was suddenly wrapped in a bone-crushing, Beastboy-sandwich—with Cyborg hugging him from the front, and Starfire hugging him from the back.

"Good luck, Friend Beastboy!"

"Make us proud, man!"

"Mmph-mmurmmph-mm-humphgr-glammph!" Was Beastboy's response.

His teammates released him, and Beastboy gasped for air, hastily blinking the stars out of his vision. He'd have to remember that, the next time he did something incredibly stupid, to hug his teammates _one at a time. _

"Thanks, guys. But I'll be _fine._ Worst comes to worst, I'll just leave. I'm not about to die, so I'll see you later."

Beastboy leaped out the window, and immediately morphed into a forest-green hawk. The changeling glided over the bay, and took the form of a bloodhound once he reached the mainland.

_Now if I were a ghost, where would I go…? _

* * *

**Okay, now that I've gotten that out of my system... I should confess. It'll be a little while before I can update again. School's starting tomorrow, and high school comes before writing. Sorry. But no matter how long it takes, this story will be completed. I'm not going to make that promise to you all, but I'm going make that promise to myself. But expect this fic to be finished, or at least almost finished, by the end of the summer.**  
**Peace out! (=**

**Daily random thought: I feel bad for the kids today that see a cool new toy on TV that they want, but have no way of getting... Because their parents have to be eighteen years or older to call.**  
**No, just kidding.**  
**REAL daily random thought: Ya know the pop-top on the top of your soda can? The hole in the middle of it is meant to hold your straw (that you're never going to use) in place. **


	3. Duty Calls

**Wazzup?! I got a chance to update! Yay! So I'll get started by saying that the last chapter... I was "setting up the scene", I guess you could say, and I tried to incorporate a half-cup of misunderstanding and a tablespoon of fear. I just hope that it made a remote amount of sense to someone to doesn't already know what's going to happen. If not, than tell me so I can fix it. I own nothing recognizable.**

**And without further ado,**

* * *

_**Duty Calls **_

_**By: WingedNinja28**_

* * *

God I'm such an idiot. I just couldn't keep my mouth shut, now could I? Now they know it's me, they'll tell everyone, and—

No, I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm jumping to conclusions. It's not like they were really being all that _quiet. _Anyone could have heard them. Even if I were just some regular teenager, it would've still been reasonably uncomfortable.

I slipped into a dark alley and dropped my invisibility. Invisibility is probably one of my most convenient powers. I leaned against a building, suddenly realizing just how tired I was.

Fatigue's a… _symptom _of being a halfa. I may not need to eat much, and I may have a ridiculously high metabolism, but I need sleep. The more I use my powers, the more sleep I need. My powers really strain my body, sometimes to the point of me just passing out. It kind of sucks, actually. When I lived in Amity, my all-night ghost fights were more taxing to me than I let on.

Then people wondered why I slept in 'till two o'clock in the afternoon every weekend. Pfft.

Okay, I'll stay here for a couple of days. I'll hide out somewhere, just stick to the shadows. Come up with a pen name, maybe I'll even mull over a back-story. I need to get my shit together and plan my next move. If I'm ever going to return home, I need a plan.

But first, I need a place to rest. Maybe I'll find a nice, comfy tree branch.

Sleeping in unused hotel rooms of foreclosed houses… I don't know— I just had a bad feeling about it. It felt like stealing or cheating. And I think we all _know _how much I hate cheating. Besides, I've always liked the idea of sleeping under the stars.

Maybe my being here in this city… Maybe it'll be like a little break. God knows how much I needed one.

I honestly think it's time for me to kick it a bit. Rest my head, you know.

But the secant my identity is out, I'm gone. I'll… I don't know, make like a ghost and disappear or something. Literally.

Assuring myself that my hood was securely drawn over my head, I took a direction, and started walking. In Heinz sight, I probably should have at least paid a little _attention _to where I was walking, but I just… didn't.

It was dark now. Above the florescent white and the flickering yellow lights of the office and apartment buildings that dominated the obviously crime-ridden city, the full, shadowy moon shone brightly in the sky. Its presence seemed to paint the city landscape silver, seeming to shed light into even the darkest of alleyways.

I let my mind drift. I didn't have anywhere to be, so I let my feet just... Carry me. But I was trying to put at least a _little _distance between those freaky teens and me.

No, wait. That's hypocritical, isn't it? Look at me. _I'm half ghost! _I don't think I really have room to call anyone a freak.

My thoughts wandered to one of the few memories of Amity that refused to leave me. Thinking of Amity Park made me homesick, and it would take usually everything I had not to take off flying back home, despite the inevitable consequences.

An image rushed back to me. She was as beautiful as ever. Her short, wind-tossed black hair whipped behind her as we flew. I remembered the way her soft lilac eyes sparkled in the golden sunlight. And I remembered the way she looked at me as we soared through the sky. At the time, I was too damn clueless to figure it out. Or maybe I wasn't, I just couldn't bring myself to admit the truth.

The memory came to an abrupt halt when a scream echoed through the dark, lonely streets. I was snapped out of my dream-like trance and I immediately assessed where I was. _Note to self: don't take this ever route again._

I was in a rather... _bad _part of town. Although my supernatural eyesight is considerably dimmed in my human form, I still had a pretty accurate sense of sensory perception and an above-average night vision.

Everything around me looked… no, lonely wouldn't be the right word. _Haunted_, that's it. The street, and everything on or around it, looked gaunt and hollow.

Then I heard it again, that same echoing shriek of sheer terror. Before I knew what I was doing, I was running towards the scream, ignoring every instinct telling me to back off and get the hell out of there.

But, you know, when have I ever listened to my instincts?

I rocketed through the streets, my feet almost leaving the ground. I shoved my ever-growing exhaustion back into the deepest corners of my mind, and pushed on.

The Florissant streetlights flickered dimly as I ran, dully reminding me of where I was, and just how important it was that my identity remains a secret. But if someone's in trouble, then screw secrets.

I rounded a corner and came to a stop in front of a damaged, haunted-looking, crack-smelling, abandoned brown brick building. The source of the scream was a young woman, maybe around twenty-five, with short brown hair and wide, fearful eyes. Three big, burly thugs cornered the woman. Two of the goons' wielded switch blades, while the third bared what looked like spiky brass knuckles. I stuck to the shadows, waiting for an opportunity.

"Listen 'ere, girl," Brass Knuckles said in a hoarse, croaking voice that could have only come from years of smoking. "I think you has somethin' we wants."

"I-I—" The woman's voice was choked and terrified. She sounded close to tears.

"And what might that be?" I jumped in, stepping away from the shadows behind them.

Brass Knuckles, who I presume was the leader, whipped around to face me. He had a big, formless face, and a heavily inked, shaved head. He had a double chin, and a long brown cigar hung from the corner of his mouth. A pair of deep black Ray Bands covered his eyes. "Get outta 'ere, kid. This ain't ya fight." His inflection sounded like a weird mix between a New York and a New Jersey accent.

I strolled closer, permitting my bright icy eyes to pierce through his sunglasses. I allowed some of Phantom's confidence creep into the way I held my form.

"Are you sure?" I asked, strolling closer to the thug, not threatened in the slightest. "You know, I've never liked bullies. And you, my friend, fit under that category." For a little effect, my eyes flashed a bright, menacing, toxic green. These thugs were obviously too stupid to figure it out, so I might as well have a little fun with this.

"Don't push ya luck, kid. Go home, before things get ugly." Brass Knuckle's cronies both grunted an ever so intelligent "yeah" in agreement.

Step one: get their attention on me. _Check._

"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" I asked. "Things already are ugly."

Brass growled, "You're askin' for it, kid."

"I'm about as much of a kid as you are a scary thug," I smirked, "I'm not a kid."

"Ya sure know how ta run ya mouth, kid," Brass nodded at his knife-barring buddies. "But I think it's time someone taught ya a little respect ta ya _superiors_." The word was drawn out, like a five-year-old who had just learned a new vocabulary word.

Step two: piss them off with a bit of witty banter. _Double check._

I quickly met the frightened and confused eyes of the woman, and gave an inconspicuous wink. She blinked, and started to inch away from the thugs, now that the attention was on me.

Nodding at Knife Guys 1 and 2, Brass advanced on me, and swung an oversized, sausage-like fist at my head.

The move was sloppy and improvised, making it easy to dodge. I ducked under the pathetic swing and kicked the thug's legs out from under him.

Brass staggered slightly, his arms swinging in large circles as he tried to regain his balance. I used his momentary distraction to my advantage and lunged into an acceptable battle stance.

"Did your mom teach you how to fight?" I asked as he regained his balance. Brass Knuckles slid into a battle stance, his face twisted with surprise and anger.

Step three: Fight 'em. _Check._

Brass and I stared at each other for a second, before he lashed out at me. He swung at my chest, and I twisted out of the way. His brass-knuckled hand barely managed to scrape some skin off my upper arm. I uttered a small _"fuck", _and nailed him in the side with superhuman speed.

Adrenaline began to pump through my veins like icy fire, and I let it run its course.

Brass Knuckles let out a strangled profanity at the hit. Before I could nimbly twist behind the thug, he planted a flat-footed kick in my stomach. My breath left me in a _whoosh! _and I gasped. I blocked another hard-packed (and thoroughly padded) punch, suppressing a cough.

With my gaze tight and focused, I dropped to the floor, rolled between the thugs spread legs and appeared behind him.

Before he could react, I threw a stiff, fast karate-chop at the back of his head. There was a satisfying _CRACK! _At the impact, and Brass froze.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he toppled over, much in the manner of a skyscraper being demolished by internal explosives, crumpling in on himself. _Ooh... _That's going to hurt like a bitch in the morning. I assured myself with the fact that he wasn't dead. He'd just wake up with a killer headache, then dismiss it as some sort of demented hangover. I knew how hard I hit him, oh ye of little faith.

Double-checking to make _sure _the thug was down for the count, I looked up at the other two knife-barring thugs.

The two were both big and burley, but they were both somehow scrawnier then the brass-knuckled thug. They both looked like your classic case of crack heads, with hallow eyes and gaunt faces. They were both wearing dark, baggy jeans and similar dark hoodies like a demented uniform. The only way I could really tell them apart was that one of them had a full-out Mohawk and heavily gaged ears, while the other looked younger, with dark skin, and had a head of short-cropped dreadlocks.

And it was just them. The brown-haired woman was gone. She made it out... Good.

Now that their boss was lying unconscious on the floor, they suddenly didn't seem too keen to fight me. In fact, they seemed like they didn't want to fight in general. It dawned on me that these were probably criminal "trainees", or high school dropout helping-hands, not legitimate gangsters. I could tell by the sheer lack of confidence in which they held themselves.

Mohawk suddenly dropped his switch blade, and disappeared into the shadows. Now, why he dropped his _knife _before leaving the scene was beyond me. Well, I'm not an expert in the criminal mind.

Dreads didn't seem to notice, he was staring at me in dumbfounded shock. "W-who the hell are ya, ki-dude? Some kind of spy? Ya work for the cops?"

I held up my hands, "Nah, I work alone." My tone was oddly casual, "Look Dreads-" He blinked at the nickname, "- You're not a criminal. I know that, and you know that. What are you, a senior in high school? This isn't your place, I can tell. But you better watch your back, because this—" I pointed at the brass-knuckled thug, lying helplessly on the assault, "—Will be you if I ever see something like what you were about to do again. Got it?"

I thought for a moment, before speaking again, "Do me a favor, and I'll let you off the hook." Dreads nodded slowly, seeming to weigh his options. I pointed in the direction in which I came. "I want you to walk. Keep walking, and don't look back. According to you, I don't exist."

Seemed reasonable, right? Whatever, the kid was in no position to be arguing with me, whether he had a tiny knife or not.

"Who _are _you?" Dreads asked, his face a mask of indifference, yet his dark eyes gleamed with suspicion and an underlying element of curiosity.

I grinned. What could it hurt? Dreads was only one person. And if he knew, he'd probably head my warning. Maybe he'd even convert to the light side of the Force.

Which is always a good thing, one less thug off the streets.

"Oh, don't worry about me." I stepped under a streetlight, a few steps closer to him. I flashed my eyes a brilliant, glowing green. And, just as I expected, it clicked. His eyes went wide, and his mouth dropped to the ground.

"No—you—you're—you can't be—can you?" Intelligent response, I have to say.

"You never saw me," I repeated. "None of this ever happened. According to you," I chuckled at the irony, "I'm just a phantom. Hah! So, I guess you wouldn't be lying, right? Just playing with words. But, yeah, I'll be around. I'm not blind, or deaf, for that matter. So no stunts… _kid._"

He was just frozen, like a bleiber in the presence of Justin himself. Oh wait; I remember reading an article about him a few days ago. _Apparently, _there were almost no more bleibers. Rightfully so, in my opinion.

I sighed, and face palmed. You've _got _to be kidding me.

"Okay, like I said," I pointed up the street, "_walk."_

He nodded readily, and practically _ran _in that direction.

… I'm not _that _scary, am I?

I looked at the unconscious thug in front of me, the last of my adrenaline draining out of my system. Fatigue started to weigh on my mind again with a vengeance.

_Hmmm… _I thought, staring at the thug. _Combat boots, Ray Bands, and a leather jacket. _Guy's probably got at least _some _cash on him, right?

I wrinkled my nose, not really wanting to search his pockets, but shrugging. It was a too painfully ironic opportunity to pass up.

When the mugger _gets mugged. _By a sixteen-year-old _kid, _for that matter.

Five minutes later, I was three hundred dollars richer. He had more, guy was practically a gold mine, but I couldn't bring myself to take more.

My head suddenly jerked up at the sound of… _four? _Four light, padded feet running— or was it skipping? —in my direction. I didn't know what it was, but I didn't want to stick around long enough to find out.

Shoving the three green bills into my pocket, I backed up.

Stifling a yawn and groaning, I melted back into the shadows (_literally, _in my case), the sounds of padded feet disappearing into nothing but the ongoing ringing of silence.

If I'd stuck around for not a minute longer, I would have seen the forest-green bloodhound round the corner.

* * *

**Well, there's the chapter! That was my first legit attempt at a battle scene. It was kind of short, but whatever. A few points I'd like to discuss…**

**1. This is my battle-scene practice fic. So there will be a bit of action. Or a lot. Any pieces of advice? **

**2. Thank you to Guest, also known as Kreepers Grim, for giving me some pretty legit advice! I never would have made the connection between Danny and Peter Parker. They are so alike! You really helped me to get Danny's personality down. Plus, I'm a huge fan of Spidey.**

**Drop me a review on your way out? Well, that's all I got.**  
**Peace out=)**

**Random thought of the chapter: Every word you have ever read is just a combination of 26 different letters. And every one of those letters is used in the sentence "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog." **


	4. Fear is Intangible

**What's up peeps? Well, besides the sky, basketball players, gas prices and taxes, that is. Here's an update for you! ;)**

**Um… I don't have any warnings for this chapter, so I don't even know why I'm still talking. La-de-da… Oh butterfly! Wait was there something I was supposed to do?**

**Oh yeah!**

**And without further ado…**

* * *

_**Fear is Intangible **_

_**By: WingedNinja28**_

* * *

The deep green bloodhound made his way steadily down the street, sure to follow Phantom's scent as closely as possible.

Well, it's not like Phantom's scent was really all that hard to track. Beastboy's nose twitched from side to side as he inhaled the Ghost Boy's aroma. Phantom, well, he… He stank. He didn't really smell… _bad _or anything, just _different _from anything Beastboy's tried to track before.

While most normal people smelled like something straight out of a bottle of shampoo or lotion… and while some were just naturally repulsive, Phantom had a distinctive scent that Beastboy hadn't encountered before.

Phantom had a metallic smell, like some odd chemical combination that Beastboy didn't feel like naming, but something out of a lab. Beastboy inwardly shuddered at the thought of a _lab._ It reminded him too much of his life before the whole hero gig he'd gotten himself into.

But there was something else, too. Beastboy's tail retreated between his legs as he recognized exactly _what _the extra odor happened to be. It was blood, and there was a lot of it. It was faint, but obviously Phantom either didn't get it all out of his clothes, or Beastboy's in _way _over his head. But the changeling pushed himself to believe the former. No, no. The young Titan had no logical reason to be afraid. He was letting what his team said get to him. That's all… right?

The changeling huffed and allowed his overly long tongue to drape uselessly out of his mouth. Where was Phantom _going, _anyway? Beastboy found himself following the scent right down Colfax Boulevard, and from personal experience, he knew this wasn't a good part of town. The Ghost Boy was probably lost. Understandable, Jump City wasn't like the small you-blink-you-miss-it town of Amity Park, where everyone knew everybody.

Jump was a little like New York City, with its winding streets, its confusing city blocks, and its… _colorfully _linguistic people.

It was easy to get lost in Jump. But another fearful, pessimistic thought entered Beastboy's mind. Maybe it wasn't an accident. Did Phantom cross over to the side of evil after he fought so long and hard for the heroic title he now holds?

'_No,' _the green-toned boy chastised himself, '_quit thinking like that. Maybe he just came here to help people.'_

Beastboy's tail whipped back and forth at the optimistic idea and he pushed on, down the eerily quiet streets.

The moon hung silently above him in its quiet, silvery slumber. A single dim star shone besides it, like a lone diamond spilled upon a carpet of black velvet.

The streetlights flickered on, then off, then on again, like a five-year-old who'd gotten a hold of the light switch for the first time. But Beastboy hardly paid his surroundings any mind. With his ears perked and his mind set, the world seemed to melt around him as his four legs moved steadily and automatically, as if Beastboy were born to track.

Well, at the moment, Beastboy was a bloodhound. So, technically, he was.

The bloodhound suddenly stopped in his tracks. A new scent had entered his range, not too far from him. The smell was retreating, seeming to rush blindly away from him in the opposite direction. Normally, Beastboy wouldn't have cared. Just another person, right?

But it was the smell that got the boy concerned. The odor was thick and awful. It stuck out against the city backdrop like the smell of gasoline among a valley of wildflowers.

Beastboy knew what it was. He had grown to hate the smell in this form. It made his fur stand on end and his lips to pull away from his sharp, canine teeth in a grizzly growl. His ears ached to press themselves against his skull, and he barely managed to stop himself from morphing into a great, green wolf.

Confused, aren't you?

Didn't you know that dogs could smell fear?

And whoever was giving off that sent must have been terrified.

Beastboy huffed, clearing it out of his system. He focused on his previous trail, and just ignored the radiant fear as much as possible.

Beastboy didn't even want to _know _the cause.

His pace quickened, his forest green paws creating a soft _pat, pat, pat _on the asphalt. The sound echoed off the buildings, and disappeared into the dark.

The metallic sent was getting stronger and stronger.

The changeling rounded a corner, and—

And what he saw… Well, he was pretty sure if there were any dogs near him, he'd be toast.

Phantom was nowhere in sight, and his metallic trail flowed seamlessly through the shadows, but Beastboy momentarily forgot about all of that. The changeling morphed back into his human form and simply gaped.

Lying on the street in front of him was a large, monster of a man. His dark clothes and his heavily inked, shaved head immediately gave Beastboy the "Bad-ass thug" vibe.

But… The monst—_man _wasn't moving. A thin teardrop of dried dark red blood ran from the corner of his lip to the bottom of his chin.

Pushing his panic aside with a shuddering breath, Beastboy knelt and pushed the man's sleeve away from his meaty wrist. Ever since Beastboy was recruited into the Doom Patrol, he had known how to check for a pulse. Well duh, right? If you're going to be a hero, you _have _to know how to check for signs of life.

The shape-shifter pressed two fingers to the man's wrist, and wanted to fall over in relief when he heard the steady _tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump, _of the man's heart.

He was just knocked out. '_Thank God,' _Beastboy thought, '_Robin would have had my butt if the guy were dead. Forget about the fact that he's dead; apparently it's a lot of extra paperwork.' _The changeling shrugged, calming himself.

He turned to leave, but he couldn't do it. He turned back to the man lying in the middle of the street and sighed.

Beastboy morphed into a massive gorilla and picked the guy up bridal-style, and placed him against a building. The changeling felt a little better knowing that at least the guy was less likely hit by a car if he was on the sidewalk.

Beastboy took a deep breath, morphed back into a bloodhound, and continued on the trail.

The shape-shifter's mind was racing a hundred miles an hour, whirring and seeming to rattle against his skull. Beastboy pushed all the thoughts out of his head, and concentrated on the sound of his light footfalls on the pavement.

The scent was getting stronger, and Beastboy had a pretty good idea of where Phantom was going.

The changeling took a turn. The street seemed to visibly open up as Beastboy made his way from Colfax Boulevard to Peoria Avenue. Yes, he knew where Phantom was going. It was well-known to Beastboy that Peoria Avenue let out into one of Jump City's largest parks.

Although why Phantom chose to go to a _park _was beyond the changeling.

_'Maybe he likes sleeping in trees…?' _The vain attempt at humor was lost in Beastboy's mind as he skidded to a stop in the parking lot of the park. Phantom's here—the trail was fresh. So fresh, in fact, that the metallic scent practically burned Beastboy's sensitive nose.

_'Okay, okay, okay…'_

The bloodhound pushed on, his paws making an almost inaudible crinkle against the dying grass. The changeling made his way deeper and deeper into the foliage, the smell of chemicals doing _nothing _to ease his nerves. Beastboy allowed his form to change into that of a human, deciding that this is better approached on two feet. The trees around him were thick with vegetation, their ghostly shadows dancing gracefully in the silvery moonlight.

Beastboy froze, hearing a slight rustle up ahead. The changeling felt himself pale. _It's him. _

Beastboy silently inched closer to the source of the noise. The darkness around him suddenly seemed suffocating, choking the shape-shifter with a sense of pure, undefined fear with every step he took. '_Why am I so afraid?' _Beastboy was sure that if any one of his teammates were in his place, they would disregard any sense of vulnerability, and would approach the situation with ease. '_What's wrong with me?' _Beastboy's thoughts were bitter. '_I'm not a coward.' _

Beastboy peered through the shadows ahead and saw him.

The dark-haired ghost wasn't aware of the shape-shifters presence, but Beastboy wasn't sure how long that would last.

Phantom looked like he was sizing up a particularly large tree, his bright, crystalline eyes blinking tiredly.

Now that he finally got a good, analyzing look at the hero, Beastboy's brow furrowed. Phantom was… not what the changeling was expecting. The ghost's dark hair clashed with his extremely pale complexion and his baggy clothes hung from his extremely skinny frame. Phantom seemed like he could be broken in half if the wind blew hard enough.

What happened to the strong, fearless leader that the world—no, the strong, fearless leader _he'd _come to know? What happened to the ghost that fought against all possible odds to be a hero? Was he still that same hero?

Beastboy let out a quiet breath from his place in the shadows, his head starting to dully throb from brain-overuse. Phantom suddenly tensed, his movements becoming stiff and forced as he searched through his backpack for something or another.

Silently, Beastboy reached down and tapped the _ADV. RECORD _button on his T-Communicator. Cyborg had installed the new feature on all the communicators shortly after the "Victor Stone" thing in HIVE Academy.

Beastboy had thought the feature was pointless. All it did was send an audio signal back to the Tower, so his team could hear exactly what was going on. Of course, the signals were only audio, so his team couldn't be heard. But now Beastboy realized how helpful it could be for solo missions.

The changeling adjusted his position in the shadows, a twig lightly snapping beneath his grey boot. Beastboy winced as Phantom's head jerked up from what he was doing and he snapped around in Beastboy's direction.

"Don't bother hiding," Phantom spoke in a clear, nonchalant tone. But as Beastboy thought about it, he was almost positive that he heard a slightly drunken exhaustion lying in the undertones of his voice. "I know you're there."

Beastboy gulped, his choking fear still weighing heavily on the teens mind.

There was no going back now.

The changeling stepped into the moonlight.

"…Hi?"

* * *

**Way to be dramatic, huh? I don't know why, but this was hard for me to write. I just couldn't get it to sound the way I wanted it to. Maybe it's the whole "talking as a dog" thing that was getting to me… Anyway, yeah, hard to write. But reading over it, I don't think it was too bad.**  
**This story is turning out to be way more popular than I had originally expected. I swear, it makes me jump up and down in excitement every time I get a response email!**

**And, finally! The story-line's just starting to move from beginning to rising actions.**  
**In other words, it's far from over.**  
**Muhahaha! Well, that's all I got.**

**Peace out! =)**

**Random thought of the chapter: 20 years ago, we had Johnny Cash, Bob Hope, and Steve Jobs. Now what do we have? No Cash, no Hope, and no Jobs. Don't let Kevin Bacon die! **


	5. Lies Can be as Real as the Truth

**Hey there! My absence comes with a long list of excuses that include cramming for finals, actual finals, sleep-deprivation, warning signs of an early summer cold (wouldn't a summer cold be called a_ 'hot'?_) Okay, the warning signs of an early summer _hot_. I would list more excuses, but I really don't feel like it. But hey, HAPPY SUMMER! **

**_¡Espera!_ Una cosa más! I don't own either of these shows, as I would not be here if I did. And I'm working on my Spanish, if you can't tell;p **

**And without further ado...**

* * *

_**Lies can be as Real as the Truth**_

_**By: WingedNinja28**_

* * *

…What?

My eyes were wide and surprised. What was I supposed to say to _that? _

My words tumbled out of my dry mouth in a rush before I could stop them, "Wh-what the hell are you doing here? Did you _follow _me? What did you hope to accomplish?"

Okay, even I'll admit that was a little harsh. But what was the kid expecting, a smile and warm, enthusiastic introduction? Well, _no. _That's not really my thing anymore.

I guess you could say I grew out of it.

"Umm, well, I—uh… hi, Mr. Phantom, sir," Green Kid's voice shook and his form quivered. Wait… was—was he _scared _of me? I could almost _see _the tangible fear radiating off his form. That calmed me down a bit. The _last _thing I wanted to do was make anyone but the bad guys afraid of me. I knew what could happen if I struck fear into the hearts and minds of too many people. _He _would happen.

But, regardless, I sighed in exasperation. This day just didn't want to end, did it? Clockwork's just screwing with me again, isn't he?

"Okay," I told Green Kid in a slightly irritated tone. "It's obvious you didn't follow me for kicks and giggles or anything, so what do you want?"

Green Kid suddenly closed his eyes, nodding to himself as if stiffening his resolve. He threw back his shoulders, puffed out his lower lip, and gave me this wide-eyed, fearless stare. It was almost… I don't know, _cute _didn't really sound like the right word. It reminded me of my five year-old cousin, Thomas.

The little kid was always the cutest thing. What with the way he would stand up rod-straight, throwing his shoulders back, and puffing out his lower lip right before he would talk to any adult. I could hardly ever get my sister Jazz to _shut up _about the kid when we went to visit. But even I'll admit his innocence was adorable.

Ah, there's the right word: _innocence. _That's what I saw in Green Kid.

It seriously made me want to smile, knowing that kind of innocence still existed in the world.

Green Kid spoke, "Mr. Phantom, sir, my name's Beastboy… a-and I'm here on behalf of the Teen Titans… J-jump City's finest hero division?" Green Kid, or Beastboy, faltered at my blank stare. His overly formal tone lost me at "behalf". But, despite his "tough kid" demeanor, his hands were trembling. He was still frightened. But why? It's not like talking to me was going to kill him, right? I hated creating fear, or did I say that already? Who knows—I'm tired.

"Look," I said, my tone gentler, "we're just talking. You're not hurting me, so I see no reason to hurt you." I raised my hands in the universal "just calm down" sign. "No body's going to die here. I'm not a bad guy, and neither are you. So quit shaking, kid. You look like you've seen a ghost." I chuckled a little at the unintentional pun. "Well, you look like you've seen _another _ghost."

A small smile spread across Beastboy's face. "Y-you mean you're not going to, like, smite me with one of those green death-ray-things, o-or turn me into a pile of smoldering green bones?"

I blinked. "Why on earth would I do that?" I stared at the boy, "I thought I proved myself as a 'good guy' a year or so back." I cleared my throat, "To _most _people, anyway." The afterthought was bitter and resentful. I shook off the negativity and absent-mindedly fingered the hem of my baggy hoodie. I looked up at Beastboy and almost sighed in relief at the boy's slightly more relaxed demeanor.

"What do you want to know?" I asked casually.

The green boy gave me a puzzled look, "What?"

"Well, you obviously have questions… I mean, why else would you be here?" I leaned in slightly, "It wouldn't be very fair to let you wander back to your little friends empty-handed, now would it? So, sure. I'll tell you what you want to know… to some extent, anyway. But I can't promise any clear-cut yes-or-no answers, either."

Beastboy nodded eagerly; probably thrilled I gave in so easily.

"But first, I need to know the who's and why's." I added before Beastboy could open his mouth. "_Who _I'm giving information to and _why _you want to know."

Beastboy gestured to himself. "My team, the Teen Titans, sent me to find out why you're here n'stuff."

My mind blanked, "the Teen—who now?"

The green teenager's forest eye's widened, but there was no longer any fear in them. There was an unmistakable innocent hurt shining through his deep emerald orbs. The kid looked as though I just shot his puppy or something. It kind of made me want to apologize for my stupidity.

"How could you _not _know who we are?" Beastboy asked in a hurt tone.

"Sorry?" I shrugged, "I guess I've been…. a little _out_ of it, if you know what I mean." As much as I hate to think about it, the statement was true. After all, I had only escaped from The Lab of Hell a little over a month ago. To top it off, I spent three of my five weeks of freedom hiding out in the outermost region of the Ghost Zone (three weeks, two weeks, four weeks, it really didn't matter, as time's mostly irrelevant in the land of the dead). I barely remembered my parents calling that expanse "Area 328", although I think they just made that name up. But the common slang-name among ghosts is "No-Mans-Land". It's uncharted territory and not really a desired place to be. It was dark, black, and sinister, with a few green vapor trails here and there. Oh, and with some _very _primitive and savage ghosts thrown in every once in a while, why else they call it No-Mans-Land? As to why I was there, well, that's a story for another time.

Beastboy nodded stiffly. There was no understanding or comprehension in the gesture at all. And I was grateful for that, strangely enough.

"The Teen Titans are a meta-human team of heroes. We help people, y'know? In case you couldn't tell, this isn't the safest town to live in."

"Yeah," I agreed, biting back a yawn. "I got that vibe when I landed. But what does that have to do with me?"

"Think about it, dude. You're a legend. You might as well just join the Justice League—" now _them,_ I've heard of, "—with how many fans you've got. Then you go missing… like, you seriously just dropped off the face of the planet. Everyone thinks you're dead, and you suddenly just _come back _like you never left at all." Beastboy glanced down at my dangerously skinny form. "Well…. _Almost _like you never left at all." I cringed a little. Yeah, I get it— I _look _unhealthy. But, hey, I'm getting better. Ever tried nothing but fast food for a few weeks? It works wonders for the dangerously underweight.

"And out of all places for you to come—"

"I come to Jump City. So you want to what I'm doing here and not in Amity Park? I don't see why you people care, I'm not about to kill anyone." Unless they're already dead… but that wouldn't count, now would it? Maybe I'll just kill anyone wearing an all-white suit and shades. Hah! Talk about karma.

"Can't be too careful," said Green Kid with a shrug.

But… I don't know. There was something else, something that bothered me about our little _interaction, _here. Don't get me wrong, I _liked _Beastboy, but I just couldn't bring myself to relax around him. Was it something he said? Something he did?

Wait.

"What did you say earlier? You're a getta… human?"

Beastboy laughed childishly. "_Meta _human. It's someone who was born with or given superpowers. Pretty cool, huh?"

What was so familiar about that word? _Meta… _I swear I've heard it before. But I couldn't for the life of me remember _where_.

"Yeah dude, that's epic. What can you do?" I know it was kind of stupid and immature, but I felt a sense of childish excitement towards the idea of _other _people with powers or abnormalities such as my own… Who, of course, weren't crazy lunatics who wanted to take over the world, kill my father, marry my mother, have me as a son, and buy the Packers.

But whatever, you know?

Beastboy grinned devilishly, like I have just asked the very question he'd been wanting to hear all night.

"Well, since you asked, I should tell you that I _do _have just the _coolest _superpower in the history of superpowers."

I waited.

Beastboy gave a wink. "I'm a shape-shifter. Some dudes call me a _changeling. _It's pretty awesome. I don't mean to toot my horn or anything… but, _toot." _

I grinned broadly at him. A shape-shifter? I never thought I'd meet another one. An actual _living _shape-shifter, that is. But… that still didn't explain why the kid was green. Assuming it was a touchy topic or something, I decided not to ask.

_Meta… _Oh I swear— I won't be able to stop thinking about that one word until I figure out _where the heck I've heard it before. _

I made a little bit of small talk with Beastboy while I racked my brain to remember.

_Meta, meta, meta, meta, meta…. _

Then it happened.

My mind clicked and I remembered. It happened just like that, one second I had no clue where I've heard the word, and the next second, I just _knew. _

Also, now that I knew, I realized something. Clouds were rolling in— a metaphorical storm was coming.

And I was going to try my hardest to break the clouds. If that meant bucking this team of heroes off my back as soon as possible, then so be it.

"So, where were you?" Asked Beastboy, sitting on a bench nearby.

I shrugged, unsure what to say. I was expecting the question… but why did I not have an answer?

I met the kid's eyes. "There was a problem in the Ghost Zone I needed to take care of. Guess I was out of commission a little longer than I thought I'd be." I hated looking in his, or anyone's, eyes and lying like that. It made me feel… What's the word— _bad_ didn't seem right. Guilty… or regretful, maybe? That sounded better. Maybe there's a reason why I failed Lancer's class.

Beastboy nodded, his eyes were steady and wary. There was a trace of suspicion in the way he held his form, like he saw through my thinly veiled lie. But he didn't say anything, and for that, I couldn't be more thankful.

But now that I started, I figured, why stop? Might as well give the boy the whole cake and not just a piece, right? Good God, I'm comparing lies to cakes! Maybe I really do need some professional help… you know, the kind of professional help where the doctor's _not _trying to strap you to a table so he can stab you with a syringe and do God-knows-what to you. Good thing I didn't let all that get to me, or I bet I'd fall to the floor shaking from PTSD at the drop of a hat.

Well…

I can't say that never happens, because it does, and it's annoying. But it just doesn't happen at the drop of a hat. Trust me my friends, when it does happen, it's not fun. So, I won't go into it anymore at the moment.

That said, or thought, I quickly formulated a lie in my head.

"I know you're going to ask why I'm here," I said finally. "I'll just give it to you straight. I've been out of commission for a while. Amity Park's my home town, and when people see that I'm back, I'll probably be attacked several times a day by mobs of fan-girls who can't seem to accept the fact that I have a girlfriend." _Cough, cough, Paulina, cough, cough_, "It's just a culture shock I'm ready for. At the moment, I just need a little break, you know? Catch my breath and all that. Jump just so happens to be on the way to Amity."

Now _this,_ Beastboy didn't seem to buy, "You came to _Jump City… _for a _little break?" _

"You know, I don't think you've been to Amity Park, have you? I'm sure I can handle a few thugs and baddies every now and again." I mean, what could be worse than a couple of "bad-ass" gangsters and a few rapists here and there? There could be ghosts here, but I doubt it.

Looking skeptical, Beastboy nodded and let the subject drop.

"Do you know how long you're gonna be here?" The purple-clad boy asked.

Hmm… There were pros and cons to being here. I really just wanted to settle down and plan my next move. I had to figure out a way to not only evade the GIW, but take them down, as well. What better place to do that than in a city where there were _already_ heroes kicking butt and taking names? It's a well-earned break if I've ever heard of one.

"I'll only be here for a little while… Maybe two, three weeks max before I move on. I have some stuff I got to work on, but then I'll be out of your hair. Ya know, I'll make like a ghost and disappear." The last part sounded weirdly ominous, even to me. Ah well, it creates dramatic effect. I'm sure Freakshow would have been proud.

But there was something else, too. _Meta. _I knew where I've heard the word. Like I said, a storm was coming, and I was one of the only ones who could stop it.

There was no way I was leaving this town until I knew it was safe. Whether this little team knew it or not, they needed me. And there was _no way _I was going to let such an innocence like what I saw in front of me die.

"Do you have anywhere to stay?" Beastboy asked, his husky voice a little louder with confidence. "'Cause, y'know, we've got more than enough spare bedrooms back at the Tower. I—I mean, if you want to, that is."

Now _that _was a question I wasn't expecting. As tempting as it was…

"Thanks for the offer," I said, "but I think I'll pass. I'm trying to keep my being here a bit quiet."

Beastboy nodded and shrugged, "Worth a shot."

The conversation died then. The silence was starting to get a little too awkward for my taste.

"Look, I'm exhausted," I told the boy. "It's been a long day, too much flying, fighting, and whatnot. So…"

"Yeah, yeah," Beastboy said, catching my drift, "I guess I'll… catch you around sometime? Maybe?"

"Maybe."

Beastboy stood up, thanked me, and turned to go.

"Wait," I stopped him. The boy turned, raising an eyebrow.

"Can you do me a favor?" I asked.

"Yeah sure, dude."

"If it ever comes up, I'm not here. You know nothing about my whereabouts. I mean, of course I'm not talking about your team or anything— they don't count. Just don't tell anyone _else _I'm here, okay? Because the _last _thing I need is the press shoving their noses into my business."

"I thought that was a given," Beastboy said with a sly expression on his face.

"Thanks, Beastboy. I owe you one."

"No problem, Phantom."

"Danny," I told the boy, "Just call me Danny."

Beastboy suddenly smiled brightly, a smile so big it seemed to reflect the light of the moon and the park lamps. I noticed the fact that he had oddly sharpened canines and an under bite. Strangely enough, that only made me believe the shape-shifter story even more.

"Well then, catch ya later, Danny."

Suddenly, Beastboy's form shrunk and morphed into a deep-green hawk with piercing white eyes. The hawk let out a cry and took to the sky, soaring higher and higher until he disappeared.

I smiled and let out another wide yawn, finally letting exhaustion take its toll on me as I flew up to the highest sturdy branch of my tree.

Maybe things were starting to look up for me. Everything would go _right, _for once. I could actually keep not only myself, but everyone else around me safe, as well. Maybe Clockwork was on my side.

But, as I drifted off to sleep, I thought about it. And the more I thought about the events to come, I couldn't help but feel that I was leading myself into a fool's paradise. I couldn't help but feel that I was lying to myself.

* * *

**If there were any errors, point 'em out so I can go back and fix them. True to Danny's words, I'm tired ;P  
Hey, guess what!? IT'S SUMMER! That means long days and long nights, lots of time to write, and access to the internet almost all the time! So, I'll be able to update more often. I hope this came out good, because I'm still a little brain-dead from finals. I also tried to make it a bit ominous, too. By the way, does 10th grade suck as much as I've heard it does? Anyway, that's all I got.  
Peace out =)**

**Random thought of the chapter: "The Effects of Peanut Butter on the Rotation of the Earth", a study co-authored by hundreds of physicists, is only one sentence long: "So far as we can determine, peanut butter has no effect on the rotation of the earth."**


	6. Sending Signs

**Heyyyy! What's up?! Here's chapter six! Chapter seven should be posted sometime this or next week. I've got nothing else to do up until next Thursday, so I might as well lock myself in my room and type some Danny Phantom x Teen Titans fan fiction, right? **

**I own nothing! Meh. **

**And without further ado...**

* * *

_**Sending Signs**_

_**By: WingedNinja28 **_

* * *

"I can't believe you guys," Beastboy stated, plopping down on the long, over-stuffed, C-shaped couch in the main-room of Titans Tower the following afternoon. Or, in Beastboy's case, the following morning.

The sun was at its peak outside the Tower, casting its warm rays across the city and reflecting off the bay. It was mid-autumn, so the sun wasn't as warm as it was a mere two months before. But it's not like that factor made much of a difference in Titans Tower. Cyborg had yet to repair the A.C. from a rather brutal fight that took place not long ago; so now the whole building radiated a rather uncomfortable heat from the amplified reflection of the sun through the Tower's gargantuan windows.

"Do you dudes realize just how much you scared the heck out of me?! I thought Danny was going to blast me with a death-ray or something!"

Robin held up his hands, "Sorry Beastboy, we didn't know. It's always safe to assume the worst."

From her place on the other side of the couch, Raven looked up from her book and cast a smoldering glare at Robin when his back was turned. She then turned her attention back to her hardcover volume.

The other Titans didn't seem to agree with the statement either, but they kept their mouths shut.

"I don't trust him," Robin stated with an air of finality.

"Why?" Cyborg's deep voice rang out from the kitchen. "Because he's got his own problems to deal with, or because he doesn't want our help?"

Robin crossed his arms and growled, "Both… None… Whatever. I just don't trust him."

And there was a reason for Robin's mistrust.

See, when it came to the business of heroism, nothing was that simple. Nothing was as straight forward or clear-cut as Phantom — or _Danny _— made it out to be. There were always ragged ends in the story and there was nothing as unpretentious as a _little vacation. _It just wasn't realistic to assume there was absolutely _nothing _else going on: no ulterior motives or hidden intentions behind the ghost's shrug-it-off façade.

Robin knew that fact better than anyone else on the team, so trust was out of the question. _Especially _after what happened with Terra. The Boy Wonder bit his tongue before he could make that connection for Beastboy's sake.

"Well… I don't know. Something just doesn't smell right about all of this." Robin decided.

"Something doesn't smell right in general," said the half-robot as he made his way towards the rest of the team, waving a hand in front of his face, a rather disgusted expression adorning his features. Cyborg cast an accusing glare at Beastboy who raised his hands in innocence.

"I'm sorry!" The changeling exclaimed, "It was that new _Marco Láte's _microwaveable tofu-bacon crap I tried. I swear!"

"Well maybe this wouldn't happen if you _laid off the tofu and ate some real food!" _

"I've _been _all the animals you _kill, cook,_ and _eat!_ It's gross, dude!"

"How would you know it's gross if you never tried it? It's protein, man. Protein builds muscle! It's a must-eat!"

"I've gone this long without eating meat and I'm _pretty tough_ if I do say so myself."

"Is that why I could kick your skinny little green butt from here to next week if I felt like it?"

"Well you're, like, fifty times my size! There's no way that's fair—"

"_Friends!" _Starfire's high, soprano voice resounded from where she stood by one of the giant windows, overlooking the bay. "Must we choose this moment to fight like the Glarf Hargs of Tamaran when there are much more pressing matters to be attended to; such as the teenage boy who has saved this glorious planet from the evils of the debris of space who is living on the streets of our magnificent city alone at this very moment?"

"Right, right," Beastboy said slowly, apologetically.

"Yeah… Sorry, Star," Cyborg agreed begrudgingly.

Starfire had that effect. She was the glue that held the team together. If it weren't for her, the Teen Titans would have split up a long time ago.

"Starfire's right," Robin said, taking the fiery-haired alien's side. "Save the fighting for later—"

"Or just not fight at all," Raven cut the Boy Wonder off without even looking up.

"Right. Anyway, until we figure out his reasons—"

_Beep, beep, beep! _The harsh ringing of Robin's communicator cut him off. The ex-sidekick was really getting sick of all the interruptions. But… Robin's communicator seemed to be the _only_ communicator going off. And the Boy Wonder knew that wasn't a good sign.

In one swift movement, the martial-artist swept the communicator from his belt and flipped it open faster than eyes could tell.

Judging by the way Robin's eyebrows shot up to his hairline and his lips pressed into one thin line, the rest of the team knew his eyes were probably as wide as dinner plates.

Before anyone could get a word in, Robin snapped his communicator shut and marched out of the main room, muttering something about filing a report.

The large, grey double-doors slammed behind the leader with a rather harsh _bang! _that rang through the room, echoing off the walls, and somehow amplifying the rest of the team's stunned silence.

"Well," Starfire broke the quietness, "That was rather… abrupt."

"You can say that again," Raven responded in a monotone.

Starfire looked confused. "Friend Raven… Is it customary for the people of Earth to repeat what they have already said in the times of abruptness? For I do not see the point."

Raven was utterly unimpressed. "It was a figure of speech."

"Oh."

"Well, whatever it was," Cyborg said, "It must have been bad. Did you see his face? I thought he was going to fall over."

"I wonder…" Beastboy mused. "Maybe it about Danny…? Do you think?"

Cyborg wanted to face palm. Now that the ghost was in town, Beastboy wasn't going to stop talking about him. Maybe the team should have sent Robin or himself to get answers from the kid.

"Nah, man. It was probably a minor screw up with another Titans division. Someone probably broke their communicator or something. That's all."

Clearly, Cyborg was only trying to reassure himself. Minor, right? But since when did the Teen Titans ever deal with something _minor?_

"I'm sure he'll tell us _all _about it when he comes back," Raven said, a hint of sarcasm etched in the corners of her voice. She calmly flipped a page in her book.

The other Titans merely shrugged. What did it matter, anyway?

"…Anyone up for a game of Mega Monkeys 4.2?" Beastboy asked after a moment.

The changeling was met with blank stares.

"How can you do the thinking of the video games in times such as these?" Starfire asked in an almost sickened tone.

"Star, the world could be coming to an end and Beastboy would _still _think about video games," Cyborg stated simply. The half-robot thought for a moment, "In fact, I think Beastboy _was_ thinking about how lost he would be without _Doomed 2_ when the Disasteroid was about to hit the earth and kill us all."

"Hey! I'm not that—"

"He was." Raven stated matter-of-facially, flipping another page in her book.

Beastboy bit his lower lip. "So… I'll take that as a _'no,'_ then?"

Cyborg was utterly slack-jawed. "Man, did I _say _no?"

A wide grin split the shape shifter's face. "First one to 5,000,000 points, 150 bananas, and 80 diamonds wins full rights to the T-Car for a week?"

Cyborg grinned evilly. "Like I would pass up an opportunity to kick your little butt, Grass-Stain. You're on!"

Starfire face palmed at the two Titans' immaturity.

"Boys." Raven summarized Starfire's thoughts.

"Dibs on player one!" Cyborg yelled, seizing the controller and flicking on the massive flat screen that seemingly floated on one of the Tower's walls.

"_Dude! _You were player one last time!" Beastboy cried, pushing the disk into the game station.

"Does it matter? Even if I was player _four _I could still whip your butt."

"Point taken."

"I'm leaving," Raven announced, closing her book with a quiet _snap._

"Agreed," Starfire said, lifting herself into the air. Starfire and Raven quietly left before the boys could completely kill the girls' eardrums with their pointless screaming.

The double-doors closed behind them with a now quieter, electronic _click. _

Cyborg and Beastboy looked at each other for a beat, both wondering what could have driven the girls away.

* * *

An unmeasured amount of time trickled by and Cyborg and Beastboy continued their game uninterrupted.

That is, until doors slammed open and Robin marched in, Starfire and Raven trailing closely behind.

"So… what was that all about? You kind of just stormed out on us, man." Cyborg told Robin, pausing the game.

"Sorry about that, but it was important. Cyborg, remember how you installed the modified S.O.S. signals on all the communicators after the Brotherhood of Evil incident?"

"Yeah, I remember." _Where's Robin going with this?_

"I received a _Panic _signal coming from Aqualad's communicator."

Cyborg paled slightly. The _Panic _feature was for emergency cases where the communicator's owner was unable to call for help. Signals are sent directly to Robin if the tiny "_Panic!" _button on the side of the communicator was pressed. Signals are also sent if the communicator's accessed by an unknown personal, tempered with, or destroyed.

"Friend Aqualad is in trouble?" Starfire asked, horrified.

"I'm sure it's fine," Cyborg reassured. "He could have just pressed the button by accident. It happens."

Robin was unsure. "I tracked his location before he went off-grid and—"

"Aqualad went _off grid?" _Beastboy's eyes were wide with shock.

"Yes. He was in the Las Vegas area before his signal dropped." Robin paused, "Aqualad being in Vegas… that doesn't sit well with me."

"…Why?" Beastboy asked, feeling a little dumb for not catching the leader's drift.

The Boy Wonder could only blink at question from the changeling. But what was Robin expecting? The youngest Titan was never very good at geography. "Las Vegas is in Nevada. It also happens to be in the middle of the desert. Doesn't that strike you as weird that _Aqualad _would be in the _desert__?"_

"It would cut him off from his main power source," Raven concluded, her deep violet eyes showing just the slightest gleam of genuine concern.

"Well, I'm sure he can handle it," Cyborg reasoned. "I mean, c'mon, guys. It's Aqualad! I know that kid can take care of himself."

Robin looked ambiguous. "But we can't just ignore a—"

But, for the umpteenth time that day, something cut Robin off mid-sentence.

A piercing siren shook the walls of the Tower and a flashing red light illuminated the five forms of the Titans.

"We'll talk about this later," Robin made himself heard over the siren's screech.

The Boy Wonder pressed a button near the gargantuan television and, much to the dismay of Cyborg and Beastboy, exited Mega Monkeys 4.2 without saving. Well, much to Beastboy's dismay, anyway. Cyborg was actually a little relieved. Beastboy's been practicing at that game, and the last thing the half-robot wanted to do was give up the T-Car for a week to someone who _couldn't even reach the pedals! _

"Really, dude?" Beastboy nearly exploded at Robin, momentarily disregarding the blaring alarm. "I was at 4,900,000 points, 140 bananas, and 75 diamonds! A new high score! And you didn't let me save!"

"_C'est la vie" _Cyborg shrugged with an arrogant grin.

Robin rolled his eyes with a simple "Not the time," before typing a few commands into the keyboard.

A ragged security video appeared on the television screen, showing a grimy image of the pier.

"What the—?" Cyborg started.

"Is that a… dog?" Raven questioned.

"My long-lost twin, apparently." Beastboy chuckled meekly.

"If your long-lost twin glows and has red eyes, then yes," The team's technician countered.

Indeed, the Titans was seeing a grainy, distorted image of probably the biggest dog they have ever seen. If you could even call it a dog, that is. The monster's fur was a glowing, toxic-green color, matted in some places. Its ears and tail were an oily black and its teeth were too sharp for comfort. The dog's eyes were glowing a sadistic, angry blood-red.

"That is probably the scariest looking dog I have ever seen," Beastboy stated simply.

"And we need to bring it down before anyone gets hurt. Titans, _GO!"_

* * *

**Gotta love the semi-cliffhangers. Ah well. Next chapter will, hopefully, be more fun to write. Sorry about any mistakes, I busted this out in ungodly hours of the morning. So drowsiness was a factor in writing this ;p Any suggestions for me or anything? Were characters in-character? Was it too predictable? **  
**Anyway, R&R! And the other R&R, too. Summers are for resting and relaxing, after all (to me, that is). **  
**Well, that's all I got.**  
**Peace out! =) **

**Random thought of the chapter: If you put headphones in your nostrils and open your mouth, it forms an instant speaker! I'm not even kidding. I looked like such a dork when I tried it, but it works. **


	7. Ghosts of the Past

**Hey! Here's chapter seven! Guess what? I'm going to learn how to drive tomorrow! Thursday. I thought I'd get this up before then. I have chapter eight in progress, should be up early next week, or , depending on the response for this chapter, maybe even by the end of this week! It's cuz they were both going to be in one chapter, but it got way too long. Well, here you people go!**

**And without further ado... **

* * *

_**Ghosts of the Past**_

_**By: WingedNinja28 **_

* * *

It was midday.

The sun shone brightly over the bay, lighting the massive, distant T-shaped tower ablaze with its fiery rays of melted gold.

I was just sitting there, in the sand, looking out at the surreal scenery before me. I was sitting on my sweatshirt, using it as some sort of blanket, leaving me in my cheap, blue short-sleeved t-shirt.

I usually had my hoodie on for a reason—_especially _out in public. I guess you could say I wasn't exactly... _inconspicuous _without it. When the GIW said I'd be subjected to "lots and lots really _painful _experiments", well, they weren't kidding. Far from kidding, if I were being specific.

See, here's the thing with ectoplasm. The common misconception among ghost hunters — and by default, most of the human population — was that ectoplasm is a harmful ghostly residue, the polar opposite of human blood. That statement, however, isn't entirely true. Although ectoplasm _is _the polar opposite of human blood, it isn't harmful. It's actually a force that sustains life, even after death.

That very material is the soul substance that kept me mostly alive in my lab accident a few years back that gave me ghost powers. As much as my ego wants me to say that my sheer will power and unique one-in-a-million strength of mind and body did it, that's not the case. The _ectoplasm_ in the Portal kept me alive, and the part of me that it couldn't save, it replaced.

And the fact that I have ectoplasm running through my veins 24/7 sent my regeneration abilities off the charts. As cool as scary-fast speed-healing sounds—it does come with a price. It's not one that I generally care about, though. Not like it affects my abilities or anything, it's just a nuisance when I'm _trying _to blend in. Keep up appearances and all that.

In case you haven't caught my drift yet, I tend to scar easily. And the GIW pretty much had a field day with the idea of a test subject having fast healing abilities. A multitude of scars stretched the length of my arms, winding around my biceps and triceps, dipping down to my forearms in thin, precise lines that could have only been accomplished by the hand of a morbid expert. It's not like they were all the same, though. I've noticed that the scars tend to fade into thin, tan lines over time, and then blink out of existence entirely. So some of the newer ones were a raised, light tan color, while the older ones were no more than thin, dark, unnoticeable scratches.

With that said, I couldn't just walk around, bearing them for the entire world to see. That would give me a horde of attention I most definitely _didn't _want.

But I made _sure _no one was on this stretch of sand, so I couldn't find it in me to really care whether I had my hoodie on or off. It felt nice— the sun on my shoulders through the thin material of my t-shirt. The broader range of arm-movement was a nice change, as well.

I lay back in the sand, stretching out my legs and using my elbows to prop me up, soaking in the sun.

I let my mind wander.

I wondered what became of everyone back home. Were my parents still as erratic as ever, with their wild ideas and crazy assumptions about ghosts that I was getting so accustomed to correcting right before my forced absence? Did my dad still obsess over fudge he way he always did? Did mom still try to cook for the family, despite the fact that most of her meals came alive and tried to kill us?

What about Jazz? I know she's probably in college by now, but where did she decide to go? I know she was debating between Harvard, Stanford, and Yale. Did she still want to become a psychologist, like she always said?

And what about my best friend, Tucker, and my girlfriend, Sam?

Was Tucker still the mayor, or did he get thrown out of office? I wondered how he was doing, leading Amity Park. Absent mindedly, I wondered if Tucker ever got a girlfriend. _He always was a ladies man. _That thought was idle, silly even.

And Sam. _Sam. _God I missed her so much. I missed those soft violet eyes more than I ever thought I would. And that dark hair, the way it framed her face so perfectly. I wondered if it was longer now. Or did she leave it short? Was she still as unique as I remember, always standing apart from the crowd, hell-bent on individuality?

And they all probably thought I was dead. Well, as dead as someone like me can get. Dead to the world... that sounds better.

But how did they cope? _Did _they cope? Do they know that I'm still alive, just MIA for the time being?

I knew that I would see them again. There was a feeling, stirring and whirring inside me, a gut _instinct _that I would see them again, soon.

Suddenly, the air around me seemed to drop twenty degrees. An ice-cold chill ran up my back and tumbled out of my mouth like a light blue dry ice, smoking and curling into the air until it faded into nothingness.

I let out a small gasp. _My Ghost Sense. _I hadn't been in contact with another ghost in over a year. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

I grabbed my hoodie and sprung up, not wasting any time. I closed my eyes and whispered, "_I'm goin' ghost!" _

As if the magic words had been spoken, my entire body was overtaken by a cold sensation, chilling me from head to toe as two brilliant white rings of light materialized around my waist and traveled up and down my body, transforming me into my ghostly counterpart: _Phantom. _

I shifted my form into invisibility and took to the air. I followed my instincts, allowing my ghostly predispositions to lead me to the source of the disturbance.

I gulped when I found myself drifting towards the pier. Why? Because what was on Jump City's pier? An amusement park. And with amusement parks came people. And when you throw ghosts into the mixture? Chaos.

People could get hurt.

I picked up my pace and raced towards the pier at break-neck speeds, my legs binding into a ghostly tail and whipping behind me. If I wasn't invisible, I'm sure I would have had an air police on my tail. I mean, there had to be _some _kind of air traffic management. Right?

I flew until the pier was directly below me. It wasn't a long ride, maybe a minute or so because I happened to be on the beach in the first place.

I invisibly floated downwards to get a better visual on the situation.

Just as I previously feared, chaos rang out below me. Men, women, and children were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. To make it worse, most of them were screaming like banshees. The ones that weren't were cowering in fear or completely frozen in panic before the ghost.

Upon laying eyes on the cause of the panic, I couldn't help but smile. I knew this ghost.

I mean, sure, he was causing mass destruction to the pier; tearing signs, denting roller coasters, toppling over game-stations, and, frankly, scaring people shitless. I still had to smile though.

_Cujo's back! _I haven't seen my dog since I was flying around the Ghost Zone in the Specter Speeder, rallying up any ghosts I could find to help me save the world. Needless to say: it's been too long.

With the way Cujo was destroying everything around him, it seemed like he was looking for something… and I had a sneaking suspicion I knew what.

I flew down and landed on the pier, sure to avoid any flailing arms and floundering bodies.

As soon as my feet touched the ground, I ran until I was directly in front of the dog's massive, wet black nose. Cujo was just about to destroy the teacup ride before he stiffened, his body going rigid as he took a deep breath, inhaling my sent.

Suddenly, those big, angry red eyes lit up with joy. Cujo's ears perked and his tail beat the air like a single-bladed fan. The dog's snarling quickly quieted, his tongue flopped out of his mouth, and he started panting happily.

The mass panic around us died a little. The people were probably wondering why the monster-dog suddenly stopped destroying things and started behaving like a… Well, like a _dog. _I bet they were wondering what type of invisible force suddenly stopped Cujo in his tracks.

I slowly moved away from the dog, allowing him to follow my sent, and led him away from the mass crowds of questioning pedestrians.

I allowed my pace to slowly quicken, prompting Cujo to let out a loud bark of either approval or disapproval. It was a little hard to tell with him. But, never the less, he caught up. I led the dog off the pier and into a less populated parking-lot. I glanced around, making sure there weren't too many witnesses. There weren't, other than a few people cowering behind their cars. But other than that, not many people were around. I could never really understand human fear. I mean, after years of ghost fighting, and a year of painful experiments, what's so scary about Cujo? He's just a big dog. _Sam _could be scarier than him. Oh, who am I kidding, Sam could be scarier than Pariah Dark.

I'm not kidding.

Taking a small, unnecessary breath, I spoke in a soft, low voice, barely above a whisper, "Hey, Cujo. Come here, boy."

The dog's eyes flickered with happiness and he raced towards me. But right before he was on top of me, he morphed into a small, green puppy with wide, ecstatic eyes. Cujo practically _flew _at me, leaping off the ground and flying into my arms. I grabbed the puppy and willed him to disappear.

I couldn't imagine how weird that looked to any bystanders. A malicious green dog suddenly runs in a seemingly random direction, turns into a puppy, jumps into the air, and disappears. I'm sure many people would go home today and check to see if they were taking the right meds or something.

But all in a day's work, right?

I took to the sky, clutching the puppy close to my chest. Cujo was really making it hard for me to see where I was going, because, for some odd reason, he felt the need to completely cover my face in dog-drool with his excessive face licking.

But without _too _too much difficulty, I managed to fly us both to Jump's inner city.

I was sick of sleeping in trees. I figured out that little fact after I woke up on the ground for the _third time _last night. This morning, I came to the conclusion that having _some _roof over my head was better than no roof at all. So, earlier today, I shoved my morals aside and made my way to the heart of Jump City, looking for a place to stay. Despite it all, though, I still couldn't bring myself to squat in some unused motel room or someone's vacation condo or something. It was a little better on my conscience to find some place that no one was using or thinking of going.

Luckily for me, I found such a place in a dinky, modest, working-class neighborhood in the heart of the city. And when I say modest, I mean _really _modest. The neighborhood was _tiny, _consisting of only four or five closely spaced houses. The small community was called _Chilson Drive. _That is, if short, squat street signs can be trusted. They can be very misleading, after all. Chilson was also almost impossible to find, unless you were already aware of its presence. The place was sandwiched between a condominium high-rise and a dull, bleak-looking three-story office building.

I came in sight of the tree-laden neighborhood and set my course for a small, long-since-foreclosed ranch-style house on the corner, hidden in the underbrush of several over-grown American Linden trees. I phased through the foliage and swooped into the crumbling house. The place was small, with flaking white paint, faded bricks, crumbling floors, and boarded windows—the telltale signs of a _very _neglected house. It was probably built sometime in the seventies, if I were to guess. Maybe the eighties.

Well… the place was no palace, but it was a place I could call home—for the time being, anyway.

I landed on the floor and set Cujo down, regaining visibility. The inside of the house was just as understated as the out: with a medium-sized main room, one bedroom, and a small, low-key kitchen. I did like the basement though, a lot. It was large, cold, and made of solid concrete. Perfect for training and misplaced aggression.

Cujo barked loudly, flapping his tail back and forth like a helicopter blade.

"Hey, buddy!" I said, getting down on my knees and scratching his head. I allowed myself to transform back into Fenton in a bright flash before continuing, "Long time no see! How's the 'Zone been treating ya?" Cujo let out a bark in response, jumping slightly and spinning around. I shrugged my bag off my back and searched around inside. I pulled out a small, stuffed duck I won in a claw machine while waiting in line for food a little while back. I held it out to Cujo, whose eyes grew wider than I thought physically possible.

The puppy grabbed the toy from my hands and bounded away happily, the stuffed duck flailing wildly in his clenched jaws.

I smiled, bemused at Cujo's antics. Now that the dog was here, though… what do I do with him? I sat down, leaning my back against the wall.

Well, I could always find a naturally occurring portal, or just generate one on my own, and throw him in. It would be one less thing to worry about, right? Thinking about it, I pretty much just chucked that idea out the metaphorical window. There were too many holes. I mean, what if Cujo ran into another, less friendly ghost and led them here? The absolute _last _thing I needed was Skulker blazing through the city yelling "Now, Ghost Child, now you will be _mine! _I _will _hang your pelt on my wall because I am the Ghost Zone's _greatest hunter!" _

Yeah, tell that to Valerie. She'd skin you ali- dead, Skulker.

I honestly wanted Cujo to stick around for a little while. He was a familiar face, someone from a past that seemed to have been lost ages ago.

And, with that, I made up my mind.

"Cujo!" I called, getting back on my knees. Said dog trotted through the door of the master bedroom and sat down in front of me, the stuffed duck hanging by its mutilated neck from Cujo's tightly clenched jaws. How long has it been since someone gave him a dog toy?

"Listen," I started, as if he could understand me. "I'm glad to see you buddy, really. You can stay with me, but I need you to _stay hidden. _If you follow me to the store or something, stay invisible and stay close. If you _want _to just hang out here, that's fine too." I'm talking to a dog. _I'm talking to a dog. _Maybe I really am insane. But what are they going to do, throw me in Arkham for talking to my disappearing, green pet ghost dog?

I'm sure they would, actually.

Cujo blinked, and to my great surprise, bobbed his head and disappeared. He was just invisible, though. I could still feel his ghostly presence like a cold winter chill in the air.

But did he... Did he... D-did he _understand _me? Did he really comprehend what I told him to do?

Cujo reappeared, dropping his duck. He tilted his head to the side, as if to say _"W__ell, what are you waiting for?"_

I still didn't get it. Could I just talk to dogs now, or was it just a ghost thing? Yeah, I think it's a ghost power, being able to communicate with ghostly animals. I mean, I was able to get Vlad's mutant monster-animal army to turn on him when I was trapped with my mom in the Colorado woods. I guess I just didn't think about it much then.

That tidbit of information was _really _good to know.

I nodded slowly, "_O-kay, _so I take it you want to go for a walk and look around?" I still can't believe I'm _asking Cujo if he want's to look around Jump City. _

The green puppy's eyes bulged, and he leapt in the air, disappearing from sight with only an excited _bark _left in his place. I blinked, then shrugged. I guess I've seen weirder; mutant hot dogs, Tucker eating vegetables, Sam wearing pink, skeletal armies, an all-powerful ghost king, my future as a deranged psychopath, etc...

"Okay," I said, allowing myself to go ghost. I turned invisible, my feet weightlessly leaving the ground. "Let's go."

* * *

**Alright, there's your chapter. And don't worry, you'll see what happens with the Titans in the next chapter. By the way, I know it _looks_ like I'm evenly alternating between the Titans and Danny, but just know that's not going to be the case for the rest of the story. That's just how it worked out. Also, I referenced another one of Danny's powers (to tear holes between the Ghost Zone and the Real World). I'm not making that power up, he does receive it in the future. I watched the Ultimate Enemy, and saw him do that. Since Dan is a combo of Danny and Vlad, that power had to have originated from one of them. Since it's not Vlad's power (he wouldn't have needed another portal when his blew up), it had to have been Danny's. And, since it was never specified when he got the power, I gave it to him early.  
Well, that's all I got. Peace out =) **

**Random thought of the chapter: If Mary had baby Jesus, and baby Jesus was the Lamb of God...  
Did Mary have a little lamb? 0.0 **


	8. Meanwhile Back Home

**What's up guys? Here's chapter 8 for ya. Guess what!? I passed the driving test with 100%! Sure I had to take it twice, but still… 100% is not something that's normal for me to do, because I have a weird mostly kinesthetic, yet somewhat visual learning style. Therefore, leaving me unable to process lectures. But anyway, that's not what you came here to hear. For those of you still reading this note, I have to point out the obvious by saying that I (sadly) don't own either of these shows. **

**And without further ado…**

* * *

**_Meanwhile, Back Home... _**

**_By: WingedNinja28_**

* * *

I strolled down the city street, my hood drawn and the strings pulled. I think I'll just get some shades the next time I get the chance. People really were starting to look at me funny: the juvenile in a hoodie. Was a hoodie-wearing kid really that sketchy and unusual in Jump City?

I will never understand big cities.

Anyway, I was walking down a busy city sidewalk. The tall buildings loomed like giant monsters around me, their splendors glinting in the sun. I remember when the city streets were nearly abandoned. Was that just at night? Because the sidewalks and streets were crowed _now. _The cars on the streets were jammed in a standstill, with blared horns, shouted curses, and flipped birds. The people crowing the sidewalks were almost as bad. With squirming, hurried bodies rushing to get to their next meeting or shouting at cab drivers, everything was just _loud. _And claustrophobic… _very _claustrophobic.

I turned onto Sunflower Street and into a slightly less populated strip-mall.

I let out a quiet breath, glad to be able to breath again. Vaguely, I heard Cujo panting beside me. He was glad for the space, too.

I slowed my pace and looked around. There were shops everywhere, but it wasn't as populated now as it would have been any other time, seeing as though today's a Monday and everyone was working. Well, not everyone. School probably hasn't started yet for my fellow teenagers, because there were plenty of them roaming aimlessly from shop to shop.

I really didn't know where I was going. Maybe I should pick up some food from a grocery store. Come to think of it, I _was _pretty hungry. I passed an electronic store when something made me stop.

"—Thank you, Carrie. I'm coming to you _live _from Jump City's Seven Flags here on the pier, where an interesting phenomenon has occurred."

I backed up slightly and faced the display window of the electronics store. Several different-sized flat-screens were showcased in the window (Gee, I have _no idea_ why the crime rate's so high), all of which broadcasting the same news report.

A blond woman's heavily made-up face dominated the screens. I listened to the synchronized audio as she continued. "A massive, malicious green dog has appeared, then disappeared within the time span of ten minutes. Eyewitnesses report the dog turned into a puppy, _flew _into the air, and disappeared. I'm here with the Teen Titans, with their side of the story." I thought for a moment. Were they at the pier when I stopped Cujo? The blond woman handed her microphone over to Masked Boy and his merry band of teen heroes.

"Thanks, Janet. It seems that the problem resolved itself before we even arrived on the scene."

"Robin, I _must_ ask, does that bother you at all that you didn't get here in time?" Janet the Reporter asked.

_Robin, Robin, Robin… _Have I heard that name before? I thought for a moment, all but beating the side of my head to remember. _Oh, _that's right! I've heard of Robin, he's Batman's sidekick! But, last I checked, Robin was still in Gotham City. So this couldn't be the _real _Robin. Well, then again, the last time I checked was when my parents dragged me to a ghost-hunting convention in Gotham shortly before they finished the Ghost Portal.

Things are a little different now then they were back then.

"Well," Beastboy spoke up from his place beside Mysterious Hooded Girl. "We made a really dramatic entrance… late. Let me tell you, it was pretty embarrass—"

"Not at all," Robin cut the green boy off.

I could already tell this _Robin _and I weren't going to get along. He really seemed like a stick-in-the-mud, defend-pride-and-honor, always-follows-the-rules, and uptight type of guy. The complete opposite of me. Not someone I'd want to hang around.

The Boy Wonder continued, "But I assure you Jump City; we'll find whatever that _thing _was and who sent it. We'll take em' down."

Oh, no. Did he just say what I thought he said? Did he really just call Cujo a _thing?_

I didn't think I could stand to be in the same room as this kid without blasting him with an ectoray. In the head. _Hard. _

But that left me with one question: who _did _send Cujo?

I glanced to my right to a seemingly empty patch of concrete where I knew the dog in question was.

What did it matter? I figured I'd deal with that scenario when it came. Because, if I knew Cujo as well as I thought I did, as likely as it was that he was sent to find me, it was just as likely that he sent himself the moment my sent and ecto-signature popped back on grid. Cujo's done it before, after all.

Nodding to myself, convinced, I turned to walk away, having pretty much lost interest in the news.

"And here, I have Mikey Erdnay and Nathan Orkday with more on the story."

I froze. No… no, it can't be. N-not Mikey and Nathan from _Amity Park, _right? Not two of my fellow geeks and weirdos from Casper High… _right? _I turned around, my senses snapping into alertness and my mind whirring.

Onscreen, Janet the Reporter had her microphone pointed at a geeky-looking redhead and his brown-haired companion. As much as I tried to deny it, as much as I attempted to prove myself wrong, those pairs of thick-rimmed glasses, pimply faces, and crooked, braced teeth were all too familiar.

It _was _Mikey and Nathan. But how did they get _here? _In Jump City, almost half-way across the country from Amity Park, of all places? It was just too much of a coincidence for them to be here at the _same time _as me.

"Thanks Ms. Smith," Said Mikey in his signature congested, nasal voice.

"Now Mikey," Janet the Reporter started, "tell us. Where have you seen this monster before?"

Mikey took the microphone out of Janet the Reporter's outstretched hand and answered, "Internet, Television, and just around." Before the reporter could ask another question, Mikey continued. "But see, Ms. Smith, if we are correct—that dog wasn't a monster... it was a ghost."

This earned a collective gasp from Janet the Reporter and what _sounded _like the camera crew. That made me laugh. Try visiting Amity for a week if the mere _mention_ of ghosts terrifies you.

"You're suggesting that dog… the one that attacked the pier… was, was a _g-ghost?" _Janet sounded flabbergasted.

"I'm _suggesting _that was not just any ghost dog, but a pet. We—" he gestured to Nathan and himself, "—saw a lot of him back home. The dog drove everyone up the walls, _especially _his self-proclaimed owner. Well, as far as we could tell." I chuckled.

That's what mom and dad get for never letting Jazz and me have a dog.

Janet the Reporter's brown eyes glinted with interest. "As they say, curiosity killed the cat. But, if you don't mind me asking, where _are_ you two from and—"

Mikey eagerly answered before Janet could ask her follow up question. "Amity Park, Illinois." Mikey smiled, his braces glinting like aluminum foil in the sun. "We couldn't pass up an opportunity to go to Comic-Con this weekend in a city where there are _real _heroes and _real _villains!"

Comic-Con? That's this weekend? I thought, weighing the pros and cons of going to the event in my head. What could it hurt? I could show up and no one would recognize me, because _everyone _will be dressed up as some action hero or iconic character. Sam, Tucker, and I have done it before, when I was exposed by Freakshow and his stupid minions. The whole thing was a total hassle, but I remember having a little fun evading the G.I.W.… Back when they didn't know what they were doing.

Only thing is... now they know what they're doing.

I nodded to myself. I think I'll go. What's the worst that could happen?

Don't answer that.

But, regardless, I think it's time to bust out the white t-shirt with the red _JUST DO IT _logo printed across the front, the light blue jeans, and the red Converse again.

Man, did I have a sense of style.

Pushing the Comic-Con idea to the back of my mind, I drew my attention back to the display.

Momentarily forgetting to ask whom the "self-proclaimed" owner was, Janet's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "_Amity Park? The _Amity Park? Ghost Central, home of the greatest ghost hunting team on the planet? And, not to mention," Janet leaned in, her eyes fixed dramatically on the camera, "The hometown of _Phantom, himself?" _

I burst out laughing, unable to contain myself any longer. The pure drama in her voice sounded like it came straight off the script of a soap opera.

I suddenly froze at the sound of a loudly cleared throat. I turned my head slowly over my shoulder, only to find myself surrounded by other teenagers, who've gathered to watch the broadcast.

The kid in question was a shorter, freckle-faced boy with dark hair and eyes. He shot me a seething glare. Clearly, this broadcast was _far _too important to laugh at… even if it was my attempt at settling my nerves.

I gave the twelve/thirteen year-old boy a grin and a thumbs-up before turning back to the television.

The kid didn't make another sound.

Onscreen, Mikey was nodding, a sad gleam entering his magnified, turquoise eyes.

"Yeah…" The redheaded nerd shifted uncomfortably, casting a glance at an otherwise mute Nathan. The nerdy brunette nodded encouragingly at his friend. Mikey looked away, met the eyes of the outwardly patient Janet the Reporter, then turned his attention to the camera. "We knew him," Mikey started, his voice quavering, the telltale signs of a touchy topic.

I felt the blood drain from my face and I shifted deeper within the confines of my hoodie, avoiding any looks or sideways glances to the best of my ability. I watched closely and listened to every detail, just to see how much damage control I'd have to do later. I heard a few gasps coming from behind me and I really had to try my hardest not to laugh.

Little did they know I'm standing right in front of them.

Onscreen, Janet's eyes grew wide and an obsessive adoration entered into their depths. It was a look I've seen all too many times back home… the look of a fan girl.

"Y-you _knew _him? What was he like? Was he as heroic as everyone says? Is he as cute as he is on TV? Is Phantom single?" Janet the Reporter shot off the questions so fast, I almost didn't catch them all. And I'm the ghost here. Mikey shook his head, still possessing what she had asked him. So am I, quite frankly. "Well, I—uh… yeah, we knew him. We were pretty much in the same social standing as_ Danny_ and his friends, but—"

"You mean Sam, the professional ghost hunter, and Tucker, founder of _T.F.— As In Too Fine: Ghost Hunting Gadgets and Equipment_?"

_T.F.—As In Too Fine: Ghost Hunting Gadgets and Equipment_? I always told Tucker he was a born computer genius business person. Looks like he finally listened to me.

"Yeah, that's them." Mikey continued, "Anyway, we were all losers before the Disasteroid and, well," he gestured to Nathan and himself. "We're still losers. Danny was pretty cool. He was really wimpy, though," Coming from _you? "_But everyone knows that was a cover-up." Right you are, Mikey. "He was always trying to fit in with the popular crowd, though. We'd sometimes help him out with his homework, then Phantom would save us from an evil ghost the next day." Mikey let out a weak laugh. "We just didn't know the two were connected." The redhead faltered, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

I felt a pang of guilt well up in the pit of my stomach. Had my disappearance hurt my friends _that _badly? I had to stay calm and remind myself that it was for the best. A blessing in disguise, or whatever. It was a pretty ugly disguise, though.

Behind me, I heard a feminine voice whisper to her friend, "Why would someone as cool as Phantom hang out with those losers?" I really had to take a breath and prevent myself from blasting whoever said that with an ectoray. I clenched my fists and remained silent, dully aware of my faintly green-glowing eyes.

Nathan suddenly spoke up for the first time, "Look, Ms. Smith," Nathan's inflection encompassed a rather distracting lisp. "Danny's disappearance hit us _all _pretty hard. Neither of us really wanna talk about it. No one in Amity does. It's just… hard." Before Janet could even try to apologize, Nathan continued, probably wanting this little interview-thing to end. "But the ghost dog, Cujo, was Danny's dog. After Danny disappeared, the Fenton's took him in. Our _theory _was that if Cujo's _here," _Nathan paused and took a shaky breath. "Either the Fenton's are coming to town, or Danny's not far behind."

Mom, dad, and Jazz adopted Cujo? _That's _what happened to him? I started to put it together in my head, but the T.V. was starting to prove as something of a distraction.

Pulling the drawstring of my hoodie a little tighter, I pushed my way through the small crowd of transfixed teenagers that had gathered around the display.

Why did these people care so much? Sure, I saved the world. But did that automatically make me a bigger star than most celebrities? I sighed inwardly as I pushed my way through the rest of the people and out into the open.

With Cujo, though, if my family adopted him, then I assumed they wanted him for his keen sense of smell and his unique ability to track any familiar ecto-signatures. But my ecto-signature, or my "sent", seemed to disappeared.

When I said the G.I.W. knew what they were doing, I meant it. They got really smart, _really _fast. As soon as they learned that Ectoranium was the natural weakness for _all _ghosts (including me), they decided to build a whole facility out of the stuff in trying to keep me— and others— contained.

Being contained in a building made of _that amount _of Ectoranium… well, not only did it keep me _pretty subdued, _but it also masked my signature. It made sense, though. Think of it like walking into a dumpster, a _repulsive _dumpster, intending to find one flower, buried within the depths of all the trash. Hard, right? Scratch that, it's impossible. That's like trying to find five liters of an ectoplasm-blood mixture surrounded by who-knows-how-many _tons _of Ectoranium.

And, of course, rendering me "_safe" _from any ghost hunting devices and animals, no matter how advanced.

My brow crinkled as I collapsed on a city bench that stood proudly outside of a fancy, high-rise hotel. Maybe, after I escaped into the Human World, my signature suddenly popped back on grid, granting Cujo the ability to find me.

I could easily visualize him lying on the floor of my family's living room in his puppy form, watching some overly enthusiastic comedy show on television with my parents. I imagined the small dog springing up, and then racing out of the house in a toxic-green flurry. I could see my parents exchanging a look, before registering what it _could've _meant before throwing on their jump suits, calling Tucker, Sam, and Jazz, before hopping into the Fenton Ghost Assault Vehicle (G.A.V.) and chasing the long-since-disappeared ghost dog. They'd still be able to track him, thanks to the Fenton Tracking-Device that I remember the six of us inventing before my capture.

The visualization made my heart sink to my feet. I mean, I could actually _see _it happening! And if there was one thing my parents were, it was predictable. With them, if it seems like something they'd do and you could _see _it happening with your mind's eye, then that's exactly what they would do.

Look at the way my dad treats any new neighbors! He sees them move in, then grabs the Fenton Bazooka, knocks on their door, and then fires at them after accusing them of being ghosts. Or tries to, anyway. Guess who's there to stop him?

Predictable.

I looked at the bench beside me where I _knew _Cujo was, and then sighed.

"I really should get rid of you," I told the seemingly empty piece of space. Cujo whimpered, the sound barely audible through the noise of the city.

"You're only going to lead them here. The G.I.W. would see it and they'd know where I am. Mom and dad _are _well-known ghost hunters, you know. Coming here… they'll attract the press like bees to a hive." I sighed, "But… I don't _want _you to go. I really just need someone I recognize. Cujo, you have no idea how much I need it."

I really just needed a _friend. _

Cujo let out a yip and I suddenly felt a slight pressure on my lap. The pressure shifted, and then seemed to collapse. Cujo let out another whimper from his spot on my lap. "Comfortable, are you?" I asked him absent-mindedly, stroking the puppy's soft fur. I humored myself with the image of what the passerby must be seeing: some kid petting the air and talking to himself.

But, despite it all, I continued. "Cujo, I'm going to let you stay. But I need you help." The dog let out a small bark in response. I formulated a plan in my head. "I'll write a note," I decided, "and I'll attach it to your collar. If I'm right and they _do _come, I want you to find them, give them the note, and get them to understand _why _I can't be found. If they see me, Cujo, everything that I can't afford to go wrong, _will _go wrong." I shook my head. This was really starting to turn into some big, overly funded, overly dramatic, and rather depressing daytime T.V. series on _ICP _or _BCD. _

I closed my eyes and leaned back into the bench. I felt Cujo's weight shift slightly on my lap.

_'The life of a celebrity is tough_,' I thought idly, '_but someone's got to live it._'

* * *

_Well, there you have it! Btw, "ICP" and "BCD" are code for "HBO" and "ABC". Okay, time to fess up. I've been obsessed with one of Pearl84's fanfic's lately, "Dawning of a Sun". Hence, why this wasn't up sooner. If you didn't know, I don't like Vlad and don't enjoy Vlad/Danny father/son fics. I made an exception with this, though. Go forth and give it a shot (if you haven't already). It's huge, though (800k+ words). Just saying. Anyway, this chapter totally wrote itself about halfway through. I wasn't originally planning on bringing Jack and Maddie into this… but this story thought otherwise. Time to rearrange the plot as needed...  
__Ah well. Drop me a review on your way back to the main world of Fan fiction?  
__That's all I got. __Peace out =)_

_Random thought of the chapter: Attempting to commit suicide was once considered illegal in England. Punishable by death. _


	9. It's All in Black and Red

**I'm baaaaccccckkkkk! I've come to haunt your nightmares. Okay, fair warning. This chapter starts off kind of angst-y. It was needed, as you'll find out later in the chapter, and, at large, the story itself. I'm not too comfortable with writing angst (hence why there hasn't been much of it thus far), but I'm going to give it a shot. I hope I nail it even remotely as well as some of these other authors! Wish me luck as I venture into the land of the angst-y unknown!**

**Nothing belongs to me aside from the plot.**

**And without further ado…**

* * *

_**It's All in Black and Red**_

_**By: WingedNinja28**_

* * *

Fog. That's all I saw. It clouded my vision with its dense curtains of impenetrable mist. It seemed to correspond with my thoughts: hazy, foggy, and, most of all, frustratingly numb. No thoughts entered into my head and I found myself lost in the depths of nothingness. I was trapped inside my head; unable to gain access to the sarcastic, overly coherent thoughts I had grown so accustomed to thinking in this place.

Something crossed my line of sight, then. I groggily realized it was there all along, but I had just now noticed it.

Bright, incandescent lights shone luminously above my head. It cut through the fog in my vision like a hot knife through tissue paper. Suddenly, the lights' intensity seemed to dramatically increase. The added light pierced my eye sockets, setting my vision ablaze. It made me long for my cell again. It was dark, there. It was cold, too. I liked the cold. Which would explain a lot, seeing as though I have a cold core. Cold and cold go well together… cold and _hot, _however? Not so much…

I tried to tune into what was going on around me, attempting to process what was about to happen. The sounds around me, though… they were almost disturbing to me. The tones of muffled, distant-sounding voices filled my ears. The harder I listened, the more their echoing voices dulled into a steady _hum _of monotonic sounds, like the ringing of silence.

The sounds of beeping machines and roaring hospital monitors only added to the depressing effect of the area around me.

The smells were present, too. They always were. The odors hung invisibly in the air like the ghosts of torture with its undying need to mock my very existence and taunt me with the idea of death. It was the scent of old, rotting flesh and _my own_ blood and ectoplasm, spilled across the floors and splattered on the walls. There was something else, too. It almost smelled like a floor-cleaner-and-bleach mix, but there was something demonic about it. Maybe it was the added effect of the acids and chemicals that, when mixed with the aforementioned scent of flesh and blood, ultimately left you with but one word to describe it: _death. _

The same death whose burning claws pulled at my very _core, _begging, pleading for me to join it in the depths of the fiery underworld. And I almost _wanted _to; that's what scared me. But there was one thing that kept me from doing just that: _hope. _

I knew there was something more, something beyond these goddamn white walls. I knew what it was like to see the sky, to fly through the infinitely large atmosphere. I remember where it was, too. I could remember it as vividly as I could see the lights shining above me. It was just beyond these damned walls I had no hope of getting through.

I lay on a cold, hard table, with chains fastened around my arms and legs, holding them in place and absorbing any power I could have mustered to escape.

I heard a voice. This one stood out among the rest. The other noises around me melted into nothing as this voice spoke. "Experiment number 83 is now in progress. Today, we will test the subject's resistance to…" I couldn't bring myself to listen anymore. My eyes were starting to lose focus and I could only stare blankly at the lights above me. The fog in my vision seemed to dissipate slightly, but my mind remained anesthetized. Anesthesia was the only way the Guys in White could get me to even _remotely _cooperate… if by cooperate, you mean getting me to _not _try to rip the agents' heads off.

I was really starting to get used to these lights. The longer I stared at them, the easier they seemed to become on my eyes. They reminded me of the sun, in a way. Floating there, seeming to shed light in the darkest of places—even here, where _dark _took on a whole new meaning. Suddenly, something blocked my view of _"the sun". _I wanted to protest, but before I could, I forgot what it was that I was protesting _about. _Through the haze, I made out a face leaning over me. The man's cold blue eyes cut through the fog, demanding attention. They held a certain authority that, even in my weakened state, I wanted defy. The man's close-cropped; military-style, greying hair adorned his worn, ruthless features.

He opened his mouth, but I couldn't hear the words. Well, nothing above a monotonic, husky voice I had no hope of understanding. As I thought about it, his voice kind of reminded me of the grown-ups in Charlie Brown. _Blah, blah, blah, blah. _

But Mystery Man must've said something _pretty funny, _because he cracked a smile and the room roared with sound.

Mystery Man held something out in my line of sight. It was a large, shiny needle filled with a bubbling, gruesome red liquid. Sparks of energy danced sadistically within the steaming syringe and it seemed to _radiate _heat.

Mystery Man handled the syringe with extreme care and said something else that I couldn't understand. _"Blah, blah." _

Vaguely, I felt myself growing annoyed at that. I really wanted to know what was in that thing. But my need for knowledge grew distant as I idly began to question why on earth it mattered.

I tried to cringe away as the man brought the hypodermic closer to me. But, as if there were lead weights on my chest, arms, and legs, I couldn't get myself to _move. _I tried to communicate, too. I tried to tell him to get that _thing _away from me. My attempts proved futile when I found I couldn't even move my jaw.

So, there I remained, hopelessly trapped within the confines of my body.

With a jolt, I felt the needle penetrate the thin flesh of my upper arm. Then, I felt its poison enter into my bloodstream. In an instant, my world was engulfed in pain. Wave upon wave of fire shot through my veins, melting my very core. It felt like I was being burned from the inside out, electric energy shooting through my hair and blazing through my fingertips. The fire inside me grew hotter and hotter with every passing second. With every breath I took, a new spike of agony consumed my being. The stillness of my form didn't stop me from letting out a bloodcurdling, logic-defying, bone-shattering, scream. No, it wasn't a scream. It was a _wail._

And at that moment, I wanted, more than ever, to die… But I knew it was far from over.

* * *

I jolted awake, shooting upright with a yell of pure anguish and terror. My hands where lit with an ectoplasmic fire and my eyes were glowing a powerful, toxic green. My feet, as if working on their own, laced themselves into a battle stance before I could even register were I was.

Then it hit me like a freaking wrecking ball. _It was just a nightmare. _That means... I fell asleep? I looked around me. I was standing near the city bench where I must have drifted off. The people around me were starting to evacuate the streets, heading to their apartments or condos. Dusk was almost upon the city, the sun departing from Jump's skyline and beginning to descend beneath the bay.

With perked ears and still on a ridiculously high alert from the nightmare, I picked up on a sound coming from behind me. Being my overly paranoid self, I whipped around, my hands aglow with _bright _ectoplasmic power. Its glow illuminated the immediate area around me with a toxic green hue-

But my glow immediately desisted when I nearly rammed into a woman scurrying along the sidewalk.

The woman nimbly leaped out-of-the-way before I could accidentally hit her with a bout of ecto-fire.

"_'Hey!" _The woman yelled, her nasal, accented voice sounding remarkably similar to that of an inner-city resident on the eastern-seaboard… Like New York or New Jersey... Maybe even Brooklyn. Unlike Brass Knuckles, who I haven't seen since I last kicked his ass, her accent sounded… I don't know, _richer _isn't the right word. Maybe… older? Yeah, that's it, _older_. She sounded a little like a New Yorker from the 1950s.

But how did that make any sense? I looked over the woman, who sent me a scowl that clearly said _"How rude!"_ as she brushed herself off. She sure didn't _look _like she was from the fifties. In fact, she looked around twenty-five or twenty-six. But she _did _look… strange. That's for sure. Her long blonde hair was tied up in two high pigtails with dip-dyed ends. Her skin was a light, ashen grey color. In fact, it almost looked white. A heavy layer of black makeup adorned her light blue eyes and her lips were a solid crimson. That, however, wasn't the weird part about her. Her whole outfit all but spelled out the word "punk" in glowing neon letters. And I mean it, too.

This woman made Sam look tame, come to think of it. Don't tell her I said that, though. We'd have World War III on our hands.

Her outfit was… reveling, to say the least. Her low-cut, thin-strapped, blood-red and black corset with dull silver fastens clearly showed the upper part of her lacy black-and-red bra. She also wore a matching pair of skin-tight leather pants with one blood red pant leg and one solid black one. A thick, studded silver belt rested on her hips. Finally, the woman had a pair of long, spiked, fingerless gloves that stretched the length of her arms, and, just as with her leather pants, one glove was black, while the other was blood red.

She shot me a scowl, her ashen features and wide eyes looked oddly intimidating. Needless to say, she let off a thick, badass vibe.

"Watch where ya pointin' those things, kid!" She gestured to my seemingly normal hands. "Ya almos' took my eye out! Ya hear?"

I nodded, unwilling to upset her. "Sorry! It was an accident."

The lady's lips puffed out in a pout. "_Well…_ Eh, sure kid. Whateva. I'll le' it slide, _jus' this once_ but don' be tryin' tha' again, mista."

I had to blink at her. "Wait… I almost hit you with a plasma ray. Shouldn't you be freaking out?"

To my surprise, the woman let out a laugh, "Ya don't scare me. _Nobody _scares me, pretty boy. Mista, don' even get me _started_ on al' the otha' littl' supa' powered _brats _tha' come swingin' through 'ere, thinkin' they can jus' shoot off their _pathetic_ 'death rays' a' people like _littl' ol' me_." I have to say— her inflexion was really distracting. Amusing, sure, but still distracting.

The woman checked a spiked black watch on her wrist. "_Well… _I gotta go. Can't miss the curfew afta' al', eh? Those littl' _Titans_ ordered a city _curfew_ a' _nine o'clock _at night. Can ya _believe_ that? It ain't required or nothin', but it's _suggested _to get' inside by then." The woman snorted. "I _doubt_ ya'd need it, pretty boy. Ya look like ya can _handle_ yourself. But _girls_ with da looks like mine? _Puh_-lease. We _obvious-ly _can't handle ourselves." I could tell she— _Checkers, _I decided to call her— was being sarcastic. She honestly looked like she'd whip out a gun if you said the wrong thing or looked at her the wrong way.

"Plus," Checkers continued, "I _can't _keep Mista J waitin', now can I? He jus' gets so _antsy _when I'm not around, if ya _know_ what I mean." She spun around on her heel and gave me an over-the-shoulder wink. "Nice ta meetcha, pretty boy. Catcha later." I gave her a wave of dismissal, before turning to head in the opposite direction… and maybe try to decode what she said.

"Hold up a secon', there." Checkers called out before I could _really _take my leave.

I looked at her, "Yes?"

She raised a blond eyebrow. "Are ya _sure _we haven' met? I coulda' _sworn _I'd seen ya before, kid."

I shrugged, "Well, this would be the first."

Checkers gave me a look that said she thought otherwise. But in the end, she took my word for it. "Well, a'ight, kid._ Whateva_ ya say. I jus' hope ya ain't _lyin'_ to me. Things tend ta turn out _pretty bad _for liars."

I acknowledged the threat… then ignored it. If she really thought she could hurt _me _then she had another thing coming. "I assure you, this is the first time we've met." I spoke with a smile, hoping that would satisfy her. The woman nodded slowly, looking deep in thought. I internally wondered: why hasn't she recognized me? I mean, I all but screamed '_MY NAME IS PHANTOM, DANNY PHANTOM!' _at her with the ecto-energy mix-up.

Checkers shrugged and, with one more wink, she skipped away, her spiked, black combat books making a dull _clunk, clunk, clunk _that echoed off the buildings and melted into the shadows. And, not a second later, so did she.

I sighed. This has been a _long _day. And, at that moment, my stomach decided it was time to let loose an angry snarl. As if in response, a dog's bark resounded from at my side, mutually agreeing with my growling stomach.

Looks like this day was about to get _even longer. _

I scanned my surroundings, and spotted a still-open fast food joint a few blocks away.

"McD's okay with you?" I asked Cujo, who, seeing the vacant streets, materialized at my side. The green dog bobbed his head, his tail wiggling.

I nodded. "Alright, then."

We began to make our way over to the small fast food joint when something made me stop. Cujo followed in suit.

A sharp banging sound was heard within the tall, pale brick building next to me. The building— which I soon discovered was one of Jump City's many banks— stood tall and proud, with pale white bricks and white ivory and yellow gold accents. Various thick, dark tinted windows were set outside the bank, and there was a set of large, glass double doors whose soul purposes were to let customers in and out of the elegant building.

I couldn't see inside the building, but I could very well guess at what the commotion was about. C'mon, guys. It's a _bank. _What did you _think _was going to happen? I ducked into an alley, Cujo right on my metaphorical tail. Then, I disappeared.

_One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five… _

It was when I reached "_seven"_ did it happen. One of the thick, tinted glass windows shattered as a dark figure in a ski mask leapt out. Glass went flying _everywhere, _like a wave of tiny sparkling gems crashing upon the darkened street. My instincts kicked in, and before the man's feet could even touch the ground, I leapt into action.

I sprung out of the alley and pulled at a power deep inside my core, willing the whispers of icy vapor to extend out from my fingertips. Before the burglar could even come close to making his dramatic getaway, I shot him with a blast of glowing blue ice.

Oh, don't give me that look. Don't you think I _aimed _when I shot it? It was a well-placed blow, if I do say so myself. The ice glued itself to the man's legs and it quickly spread. The ice seemed to jump from one leg to the other, extending and multiplying in size until it completely interlocked his legs together, causing him to stumble and fall. He let loose a cry of anguish.

_Oh, the poor baby. _

But the ice wasn't done yet. Keeping its same speed and swiftness, the ice spread from his legs and crept along the street below him, its icy branches gripping the street as if they were claws. Needless to say, it effectively tied him to the asphalt.

And this took me a whole fifteen seconds. I sighed. If all the crimes in Jump were as simple as this, what need was there for a team of superheroes? I had a feeling I was lying to myself, though. I think I just arrived on a good week. I allowed myself to materialize, and I casually strolled up to the pathetic burglar. He was wailing in anguish, screaming profanities. Seeing me, he cried out, "Who the hell are you?! Whet the hell did you do to me, _freak?" _

I ignored the insult and answered his question. "Controlling your idiocy, what else? _You _didn't do a very good job at it, obviously." I gestured to the shattered glass around us. "Look, dude," I started, squatting down so he could look me in the eye.

Recognition suddenly crossed his face and he gasped. "_YOU! _It's _you! Danny P—" I_ silenced him with an ice shot to the mouth.

Wow, it just got _really _quiet. Thank God.

"_As I was saying," _I growled, flashing my eyes at him. Effectively scaring him shitless, I might add. "If you're going to rob a bank, _at least do a good job at it. _Note for the future, dude, next time you decide to be _this stupid, _try using the _front door_ and don't try to _rob a bank_ with a _hero _not _twenty feet_ _away_." The man dully nodded, his eyes wide and terrified.

I sighed, faintly hearing the annoying security sirens blaring from behind me, giving everything within a fifteen feet radius of the bank a reddish hue with the light of the alarm. I sighed loudly and took the money-bag the burglar had dropped off the ground. I held it up, its weight not even remotely straining me. "Now, time to _return _this to where it _belongs." _I gave the robber a venomous look, allowing the glare to portray the message that he was now on my bad side.

I brought the money-bag back over to the bank, ignoring the shattered glass fragments and blaring sirens, and placed it on the counter, right in plain sight.

With that, I allowed myself to become invisible, just as the cops showed up.

I quietly phased through the front door of the bank and continued on my path to the fast food joint as if nothing had happened.

_Almost_ as if it never happened, more like. Because there was something about doing what I just did, something about _stopping the bad guy _that just loved to do. It fed my hero-complex and I couldn't get enough. I really missed being the hero. Stopping crime was annoying, secretive, and a total pain in the ass at times back home, but stopping that robber reminded me of one of the reasons why I played the hero in the first place.

I loved it.

I let out an audible sigh before reappearing, knowing no one was paying me any attention.

Okay, maybe while I'm here… I'll play the hero. _Just for a bit. _If I was ever going to get back to Amity Park, I needed to refresh my mind and allow myself to become reacquainted with my hero complex.

Plus, I thought with a slight snicker, I know how it feels to be pushed to the sidelines. It sucks majorly.

I could _only imagine _how Robin must feel about benching it for a few weeks. I suppressed a laugh. Knowing his type, he'd go total ape-shit. Only him, though. I'm sure Beastboy, Cyborg, Mysterious Hooded Girl, and Spray-tan wouldn't care. In fact, they might appreciate a little vacation.

Maybe things _were _looking up.

But still, today was a _long_ day. I looked down at Cujo's now visible form as we neared the restaurant. "Those better be some damn good burgers."

* * *

**Well, that's the chapter! Dudes, writing in an accent is harder than it looks. Really. Honestly guys, if you couldn't figure out who "Checkers" was, then I shall happily invite you to walk off the nearest cliff. I'm going to say it now: her and "Mista J" ARE NOT huge in the story. Most likely, you'll never directly see either of them again. But then again... You might. You just might... **

**One last thing: just to make it easier on me, whenever you see Danny, unless I say otherwise, just assume Cujo's with him. Get it? Got it? Good!  
Well, that's all I got. Peace out =)**

_Random thought of the chapter: When a male penguin falls in love with a female penguin, he searches __the entire beach to find the perfect pebble to present to her.  
Awwwwwww! _


	10. Underlying Judgment

**Hellooooo! Long time no see, huh? Pfft:p Here's chapter 10! Oh, and one other thing before we begin. I'm not too good of a drawer. Don't get me wrong; I'm good with painting. Acrylics have always been, along with writing (obviously, since I'm here) my field of court. But other than that… I'm kind of meh. So, I was wondering if there are any artists out there who want to help me out with a cover for this story…? Pleeeeease? I will seriously jump up and down, virtually hug you, and you will be my new favorite person on the planet. I'll love you forever. If you're interested, just drop me a review or a p.m. or something. **

**I'm just sick of Princess Pissy-Pants over here yelling at everyone about how there's no cover. Anyway, enjoy the show and happy (really late) 4th of July! **

**And without further ado…**

* * *

**_Underlying Judgment _**

**_By: WingedNinja28_**

* * *

The Titans were gathered in the main room of Titans Tower, watching television on a stormy evening three days later.

The rain drenched the seaside city in a steady downpour. Deep, depressing grey clouds layered the horizon with its sheets of gloom. Lightning danced along the skyline with thunder as its rhythm, filling the air with light and sound.

Anyway, back in the dimly lit Titans Tower, Beastboy and Cyborg were sprawled out on the couch. Well, for the sake of accuracy, it was more like _Cyborg _was sprawled out on the couch. Beastboy pretty much took whatever space was left. Raven was perched on an arm of the couch with her thick, deep blue cloak draping heavily on the floor.

Starfire sat on the ground in front of the long couch. Her arms were wrapped around her knees and her long, flowing red hair was tied back in a high ponytail. Finally, Robin stood almost unmoving behind the couch. His hand was on his chin and his face adorned an entranced and, well, slightly constipated look. It was the Boy Wonder's signature "thinking hard" face.

Apparently, what was playing on the television was pretty important. It's not every day that a group of five _teenagers _can become so entranced by the _afternoon news. _

There were two people onscreen, an anchorman and an anchorwoman. The anchorman's dark, greying hair was sleeked back away from his face with what looked like a little too much hair gel. His face was somewhat humorous, yet sober at the same time. It looked like he was told a politically incorrect joke that he wasn't _supposed _to laugh at, but it was all he could do to restrain himself. The anchorman's—Ed, he called himself—features were steely, yet his dark eyes danced with mirth.

The anchorwoman, Kyle, glared at her co-worker. She knew he was about to bust out laughing at any moment over a joke he cracked earlier. Kyle dramatically slapped a hand on the table the two were sitting at, effectively drawing Ed's attention. "_On to other news," _She growled.

Ed smiled innocently. "Oh c'mon, Kyle. You _know _it was funny. I-I mean," Ed broke out in a smile. "Who names their kid North West?"

Kyle sent him a glare. A glare, of which, Ed downright ignored. The anchorman started to laugh. "I don't care what anyone says. That baby's going straight to the top… and slightly to the left_. Hah!" _

Kyle rolled her brown eyes, but a smile started to make it's was on her dark-skinned face. She flipped some of her long, thick, tight cornrow braids over her shoulder in trying to contain her amusement.

She turned to face the screen and said somberly "If we get sued, let it be said that I had no part in this."

With that, Ed just cracked up. The poor man all but fell out of his seat and he was gasping for air. Kyle just gave him a disapproving stare, waiting.

None of the Titans were really all that surprised by the blunt and politically incorrect banter between the two anchorpeople. This happened almost every time they turned on the news. It was a miracle the two haven't been fired or something.

Growing impatient, Kyle the anchorwoman simply continued, paying her co-anchor no more mind. "Onto other news, a series of events has unfolded in our city, leaving us in a surprisingly tranquil state over the past three days."

"Oh, yeah!" Ed spoke up, having regained his composure. "Malicious activity has dramatically declined since the start of the week. The crimes seem to be stopping themselves!"

"That's right," Kyle continued, obviously more interested in this topic than celebrity baby names. "Unscrupulous activity has dropped so completely throughout the city, it's almost non-existent—"

"Here's the kicker," Ed interrupted, "all this seems to be happening _without _the aid of the Teen Titans!"

And this statement was true, much to Robin's dismay. He and his team continued to watch in silence. Because of the current presence of a _certain someone, _the Teen Titans knew _exactly _why these crimes seemed to be "stopping themselves". Robin, for one, _knew _this would happen, and he was sure the rest of his team did, too. But that didn't mean the Boy Wonder had to be _happy _about a _ghost_ steeling the spotlight.

"All around town," Kyle was saying, "problems are resolving _themselves_! Often before the crimes are _actually _committed."

"Here's a video of the most recent occurrence." Ed stated. In a flash, a grainy, scratchy security video played onscreen. The clip showed a brawny figure with a blurred face creeping into a high-end boutique on a fairly boring and empty day. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his black, zip-up hoodie. Anyone who's anyone would have known the thief was pocketing a gun. But, before the thug could so much as open his mouth, he tripped… _over nothing. _

As the man regained his footing, he froze, his body going rigid. The thug shot upright, and looked around wildly as if hearing a voice when, _clearly, _no one was talking to him. The man moved forward slightly, but then, something happened.

As if acting on its own accord, a luxurious-looking, velvety red designing chair suddenly cut in his path. _It moved by itself. _The man jumped back, and, with fear blossoming in the way he held his form, he froze in a moment of panic. The Haunted Chair moved again, and that set the thug off. The baddie was out the door and out of sight in a matter of seconds. The video went black.

The anchorpeople appeared back on-screen. Breaking the silence, Ed waved his arms, wriggling his fingers in a "whoop-de-do" sort of way. "Whoooooooo!" He mocked, "I am the ghost of the boutique chairs! Fear the wraith of my mighty furniture pieces of _doooooom! __Beware!_" Ed started laughing, lightning the mood.

Kyle couldn't help but smile. "With more and more of these incidents being reported, maybe Ed here isn't that far off. But as far as police will disclose to us: it seems we have a newcomer on our hands, Jump City. More details on this story to come… but until then, let us ask the questions: who's doing this, why are they here, and, most importantly, what will the Titans do?"

Kyle let the questions hang in the air. Ed did his part to add to the intensity by giving the audience what could only be described as the "hmmmmm…?" expression, with one pinky resting on the corner of his mouth and his other arm laying flat on the table.

After another moment, Kyle suddenly spoke up, her entire demeanor changing from dramatic, intense, and slightly off-topic to light and down-to-business in the time span of a split second.

"In other news, Johnny Allstar's new movie _The Amity Haunting, _starring Matthew O'Brien, Josh Luther, and Lauren Nelson, is due to hit the theatres in a week's time. Anticipation for this high-budget, thrilling blockbuster is off the charts. I have to say, I'm pretty excited myself. But the new movie is very controversial and, some even say, _disrespectful—_given the movie's more… _sensitive _topics. But the—"

Kyle the anchorwoman's words were abruptly interrupted when the screen blinked out with a _click _of the remote in Robin's hand.

"Well," the Boy Wonder started with a scowl as a particularly loud thunder-clap filled the tower, "there you have it."

Starfire sighed. "Robin, I do not see why you care so much for Friend Danny's actions. For they are indeed with good intent."

Robin shook his head, not feeling like explaining it. It just… _bothered _him that some kid thinks he can just waltz into Jump City—_Robin's town—_and get so much adoration without even _showing himself. _Like, other than coming up with a solution to the Disasteroid problem (a problem, of which, Robin was _sure _the Justice League would have handled if they knew Phantom was _in_capable of doing so himself) this kid doesn't have the… well, the _life experiences _that Robin and his team has. Sure, Phantom's gotten into some fights, but he's just a kid trying to play in the big leagues. Phantom has _no idea _what's expected of a real hero.

A hero has to make sacrifices. _Real _sacrifices. A hero makes sacrifices for his or her family and friends that may lead to lifelong pain. But they do it _anyway. _Why? Because, no matter what they _think, _no matter what they _feel, _it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter when the sacrifices you make can save the lives of everyone you know and love. None of it matters when your choices affect _everything _you believe in.

Robin has made his fair share of sacrifices. So has Starfire, so has Cyborg, so has Raven, and so has Beastboy.

But what has Phantom sacrificed?

His free time.

And how he gets so much respect for that makes Robin sick.

Not to mention, Danny Phantom is a ghost. _That's it. _Ghosts are evil. They always have been, and they always will be. There's no changing it: it's in their nature. Ghosts are "born" into the afterlife because they were not at peace when they died. Because of this, they're bent on violence. They have a _need _for retribution, to avenge their deaths. They do this by finding an obsession and anchoring themselves to our world until they fulfill that need for violence and revenge. Once that nature's fulfilled, they _move on. _That is where Robin's knowledge on the subject stops.

Nobody knows what happens after that.

But point is: Phantom's a ghost, and he's no different from the rest. He is dangerous, evil, and deceptive. That fact will never change, because it's just that: a _fact. _

Cyborg sat up on the couch and shrugged, lightning briefly lighting his robotic face. "Yeah, man. What do we care? He's as capable of defending this town as we are."

Robin scowled at the half-robot, his masked eyes and taught facial features conveying one unspoken message: _no he is not. _

"Titans," the Boy Wonder addressed his whole team. His four teammates looked up at him from their various positions on or around the couch.

Robin moved in front of the couch so he could better address his team. "I don't care what anyone tells you, but listen to me now." His team nodded slowly, unsure. Thunder growled outside the windows of the tower. "_Phantom is dangerous." _Robin started. _"_He _alone _is capable of destroying entire cities with a flick of his wrist. He has openly assaulted people, coasted _millions _dollars in property damage, _stolen _historic treasures, and _kidnapped _the mayor of Amity Park. Phantom is a threat to everyone in Jump City. I don't care if he 'saved the world'. Danny Phantom _is a ghost. That alone_ makes him no hero. Why? Because ghosts are maniacal by nature. Phantom is deceiving us—he's trying to force us to let our guard down. The sooner we learn that, the sooner we can make everyone in this town _truly _safe."

Oh, but the Boy Wonder's statement didn't sit too well with Beastboy. The green boy sprung up from the couch, landing on his feet just as a huge _BOOM _of thunder erupted from outside the window. Beastboy, who was normally scared out of his wits of thunder, didn't so much as flinch. He was _that_ pissed off.

Beastboy stormed right up to Robin until the two were almost nose-to-nose. "You know what, Robin? Maybe you should listen to _me._" Beastboy's tone was surprisingly soft, causing a suddenly entranced team, including their dumbfounded leader, to listen carefully to his words. Beastboy backed up, now that all the attention was on him. "Did you forget that he _saved your life, _Robin? Maybe you should watch the way you talk about my… my—uhm…" Beastboy cleared his throat, "_a _hero. He's as much of a hero as we are. You have_ no right _to say whether he's good or bad when you have _no idea _what his story is!"

Robin's demeanor quickly changed from serious to angry at Beastboy's defiance. "Beastboy, that _ghost _can kill hundreds, no, _thousands _of people. _We have no idea what he's capable of. _We can't let him do whatever he wants just because he solved a problem that the Justice League probably had figured out already! _Years _of ghost hunting and findings can't just be thrown out the window because of _one _dangerous, _lying _ghost who claims to be a _good guy. _Point is, Beastboy, Phantom's _not human. _There's no changing that._" _Robin glared at the changeling, who still held his chin up high in defiance.

"I can't believe that came out of your mouth, Robin." Beastboy said slowly with an almost _disgusted _look on his face. The green boy continued, "Just because he went up against all odds and biases to prove that anyone can be a hero makes him… a villain? Just because he has the _potential_ to be a dangerous enemy automatically makes him malicious? _Just because he's not human makes him evil?" _Beastboy took a moment to glare at Robin with an intensity no one would have ever expected to see on the young teenager.

"Look around you, Robin! Look at everyone in this room! _All _of us, _including_ you, have the potential to kill people. _Any one of us_ could wipe out this whole city if we tried! But do we? No! Why? Because we want to use our _skills _to save innocent people from bad guys! Stop and look around, Robin. If you really think anyone who's _not human _is evil, then maybe you should find another team. Jesus Christ, dude! I'm a fucking _shape-shifter! _Cyborg's half-robot, Raven's half-demon, and Starfire's an alien! _You're _the only true _human _here! What do you have against ghosts? I mean, sure, Danny's caused lots property damage, but so have we! Every fucking day! Danny was under _mind control _when he stole those historical-thingies—everybody knows that! And we still don't know the story behind the kidnapping! For all we know, it could have been a framing! Shit like that happens, Robin. Nobody's perfect."

Beastboy stopped, only receiving gaping stares from the team at his tirade. But the changeling didn't care. It was how he felt.

Robin was about to open his mouth and retort when, with a brilliant flash of blinding white lightning, his communicator started to blare with its harsh _beep, beep, beep_ing.

Robin swept the communicator and opened it; dread appearing on the boy's face. The Boy Wonder snapped it shut and abruptly left the main room.

Robin stomped up the stairs and was just about to storm out of the automatic doors, when he stopped. "Phantom's dead, Beastboy." Robin said without even turning around. "There's no point in denying it, because it's not about to change. Danny Phantom is no hero. He can't even fathom what a hero _really_ is."

And Robin left, just like that.

The doors slammed shut behind the Boy Wonder. Furious that Robin could be so narrow-minded, Beastboy gripped his short, forest green hair, dropped to his knees, and yelled as loudly as he could without transforming into an animal.

Silence followed. Silence among the Titans, at least. The rain still made a soft _pit-pat, pit-pat _on the large windows. The thunder had suddenly ceased and the lightning seemed to have frantically picked up on the horizon, but the Titans paid it little mind.

Cyborg broke the team's heavy silence, "Look guys… I think Robin's just worked up. He needs some time by himself. I think it's cabin fever, y'know how that is." Upon receiving no response from the rest of the team, Cyborg hesitantly continued. "Uhm… I think we could all use a little air, if y'know what I mean."

Wordlessly, Raven pointed to the storm outside. The rain had desisted into a little more than a drizzle, and the lightning on the horizon soon stopped flashing, much in the same way as the thunder did. Not gradually, fizzing out slowly until there was nothing left, but stopping abruptly. One minute it was flashing and roaring like crazy and the next minute it was just… gone.

"See?" Cyborg gestured outside with a grin. "The storm's letting up! I say we grab some pizza."

"Oooh!" Starfire cried in excitement, "And then shall we do the eating of the large, fluffy rings of stickiness?"

Raven stared at her, trying to decode what Starfire had just said. "Oh. Doughnuts. Sure, let's go."

Cyborg leapt into the air, the idea of doughnuts delighting him. "Yeah, man! That's _exactly _what we need! Pizza and doughnuts! That's alright with me, I tell you what."

"Oh! Dudes!" Beastboy exclaimed, "There's this new doughnut shop near the Pizza Place. It's called _Holy O's_."

"Looks like it's God's calling," Raven deadpanned, but with a joking undertone in her voice.

"Well, then, what are we waiting for!?" Cyborg demanded with a smile. "We'll take the T-car. Let's go!"

"Wait," Starfire said, "What about Friend Robin? Shall he like these doughnuts of the fluffiness and the stickiness as well?"

Cyborg glanced from his alien friend, to the door, and then back again. "Look Star…" he started slowly, "I think Robin needs some time. How about we bring him back a pepperoni pizza and some doughnuts. Okay?"

Starfire, although not _too _too comfortable with leaving her friend out of the fun, nodded. He _did _look like he needed some time for himself…

With that, the Titans left the Tower, in search of the Earth's mightiest doughnuts.

* * *

"Aw, dudes!" Beastboy explained some time later as he and the other three Titans dragged themselves out of the doughnut shop. "I think my stomach's gonna _explode!"_

"I shall agree with you, Friend Beastboy," Starfire grinned at her friend, "I, too, feel as if all nine of my stomachs might combust into a fiery explosion."

"But a good one!" Cyborg jumped in. "I think I'll be making another trip here sometime soon…"

Raven, who was levitating four large boxes of assorted doughnuts, added, "I think I'll be joining you, Cy."

The half-robot grinned at the sorceress, planning for the future.

Seeing his two friends making plans to come back, Beastboy was quick to jump in, "Count me in, guys!"

Starfire readily agreed, "Yes, and perhaps we shall bring Friend Robin when the fever of the cabin has worn off?"

"Totally," Beastboy answered with a forced grin. In truth, the more the changeling mulled over what the Boy Wonder has said, the more upset he became. He never knew Robin was so… _judgmental _of people. Especially people he didn't know! And his last comment about Danny being dead… what did that have to do with anything? Robin shot off the insults as if they were known facts. Was it really a sure thing that, once you became a ghost, you automatically turned evil? Then, why was Danny _not__? _Was it all a ploy, just like Robin said? Or was it something… _more? _

As the four Teen Titans walked down the street, Cyborg checked the time on his mechanical arm. "Oh. Wow, guys, it's still really early. We got a few hours 'till curfew. Should we head back...?"

Raven pondered that. She didn't necessarily approve of Robin's _curfew. _Of course, this extra precaution didn't apply to the Titans, since they were more than capable of taking care of themselves, but it was a defiantly a good time to get back to the Tower and call it a night.

The abstract rule was really only meant for the average Joe/Jane who_ didn't_ have any powers, fight training or weapons, therefore rendering that person extremely vulnerable to an attack.

Living in a dangerous city called for extra provisions. But, naturally, the Titans couldn't _force _the curfew on anyone. Robin looked at it like it was an IQ test, like using a helmet while riding a motorcycle. It's recommended to wear your helmet, but you don't _have _to. You just have to live with the consequences of not wearing it when you fall off the bike and split your head open.

Beastboy huffed a little, disdain clear on his face. Raven could tell something was bothering him. She knew it was about his spat with Robin. The sorceress understood that Beastboy wasn't the only one affected by what was said. Even _she _was a little hurt, but it's not like she'd ever show it.

Raven voiced her green friend's thoughts. "… Let's not head back yet. Robin needs the place to himself for a while. He needs to think things through and our presences will only create stress for him. And, yes," the half-demon added, "That includes you, Starfire." Star lowered the hand she had raised in objection. The alien princess sighed and nodded dejectedly. She really did want to see if her friend was okay…

"You're right, Rae," Cyborg stated, "I think we _all _need a little time, too. I'll tell you what," The team's mechanic spoke a little louder, his inflection showing that he was speaking to _all _of them, and not just Raven. "The city's taken care of, so it looks like we have the rest of the night off. Let's just split up and meet back here in, like, two hours or something. Okay? 'Cause, I know _I _need to stop by Gary's Auto Shop to pick up some new cables…"

"Yeah," Beastboy agreed, "I—uh… I think I'm gonna run by the park…" The boy trailed off and smiled weakly. Raven rolled her eyes, knowing the boy's reasons.

"Yes, Silkie is in need of a new supply of food." Starfire smiled, totally missing Beastboy's drift.

Raven simply nodded in agreement, not bothering to add to the conversation.

With that, Raven handed the doughnut boxes to Cyborg, and the Titans spilt up- all heading to their desired destinations.

The sorceress of the group, however, took off in a different direction entirely. Raven silently levitated down an empty, darkened street. She had a destination in mind, and this was why she liked it so much. It was so quiet. The silence permanently hung in the air. Everyone else on this particular street seemed to have the same appreciation for quietness as she had. Raven smiled slightly to herself. She loved her teammates dearly, really, but sometimes… she needed a break from their _loudness. _Her room used to be her safeguard, but she'd prefer to be somewhere where she didn't have to _demand _silence, it was just… _there. _

Raven neared her favorite gothic bookstore, _The Skulk and Lurk. _It was a small business pretty much no one knew about. There were a few stores owned by the same family, but it was not nearly big enough to be a chain. Raven liked it that way.

The store was small. It was just a petite, two-story building with dark bricks and sunken windows. A small, modest sign hung on the window reading "The Skulk and Lurk" in fancy, hand-painted calligraphy.

Without another word, Raven entered the store.

A small bell chimed in her arrival, but no one paid her any mind. After all, the heroine came here so often, everyone just got used to her appearance.

She liked that, too.

The inside of the store wasn't nearly as plain as the outside. Books lined the various shelves throughout the store. Piles and piles of both hard and paperback books sat in messy piles _everywhere. _The walls were painted a dark color, making the room feel a little like a cave. Intricate antique rugs stretched along the floors, their deep colors adding to the overall feel of the bookstore. Several comfy, over-stuffed armchairs were thrown about, along with a few couches and loveseats. Finally, a small, understated yet warm fireplace sat boldly in the in the corner, completing the room. And, best yet, it was _quiet. _

Raven loved it here.

The sorceress picked up an interesting-looking spell book off a nearby shelf and was about to head to her usual spot in the corner, when something caught her eye.

Sitting there, by the small fireplace across the room, was a dark-haired boy. He was relaxing in one of the armchairs with his face buried in a book. Raven quietly drew closer, although she made it look like she was simply checking out other books on the shelves.

Taking a closer look at the boy, she realized his thin shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. Raven cocked an eyebrow and discreetly looked at what the boy was reading.

Oh. That explained it. Raven had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from laughing as well. Figures _he _would be reading _that. _

Figures Danny Fenton would be reading his own biography.

Raven hesitated slightly, debating on what to do. Should she talk to him? It would be rude— she knew that. But… when would she have another opportunity to talk to Phantom like this?

Raven sighed, and, before she could change her mind, made her way over to the ghost.

* * *

** 'K, guys! Done with this chapter! This turned out a little longer than expected... Ah well. **

**Oh, and no. I'm not hating on Robin's character. To me, Robin comes off as extremely stubborn. If someone has committed a crime in the past, it takes more for that person to earn back Robin's trust than a simple "I'm sorry, I've changed", especially after Terra. Robin needs to experience, first hand, that that person is good. He also comes off as veryfactual, and judgmental because of it. He'll learn the facts on ghosts. He sees that they're evil. Because there's science to back up why ghosts are evil, Robin needs to _experience_ the good in Phantom in order to prove those facts wrong. Plus, he doesn't know that Danny's human.**

**-Just in case it wasn't clear, everyone has a different theory on Danny's biological standpoint. Most assume he's a ghost.- **

**Now that that's out of the way, I'm gonna say I won't update till at least 7/21/13. I'm going on vacation. BUT I'm going to try to pre-write the next three or something chapters and make it up to y'all when I get back.**  
**Drop me a review on your way out? Well, that's all I got. Peace out=) **

**Random thought of the chapter: According to NASA, outer space smells like fried steak and hot metal. **


	11. If You Look Into My Eyes

**Okay, I know I'm late on updating, as in _really _late, and I'm sorry. My excuses being that over vacation, I broke my leg AND we got a puppy! Blame the puppy. **

**-(This starts off as a _"30 minutes earlier, on the streets of Jump City…" _Then it catches up to where the last chapter left off.)-**

**And yes, ****this is a really, really long chapter. But I had a lot of things I needed to include. **

**And without further ado…**

* * *

**_If You Look Into My Eyes... _**

**_By: WingedNinja28_**

* * *

It has been four days since my initial arrival in Jump City.

I kind of like it here. Of course, it's no Amity Park. The crime rate here has been anything _but _a challenge. It's only a few stupid baddies with absolutely no idea what they're doing. Not to mention—none of them had any sort of backbone! All I had to do, one time, was just move a chair... and the dude was gone, just like that.

It really makes me wonder: why the super heroes? I started to really give the simple, wayward question some serious thought. What's the point? Why have a team of heroes when there are no villains to fight? Is it for publicity or intimidation? Maybe if the public sees a team of super heroes here to defend the city, they would think twice about doing anything stupid.

I'm sure the intimidation factor's pretty effective, but I highly doubt that's the case. There _has _to be another reason behind the Teen Titans being here. Did I just choose the right time to come, or is there something bigger going on?

Unless… unless the _real _villains that undoubtedly live here are all in some sort of team meeting or something.

I can easily see all the top baddies like Joker, his girlfriend What's-Her-Face, Scarecrow, Penguin, Poison Ivy, Two Face, Riddler, the Brain, etc. all seated at a big oval table in an overly large conference room underground or in the ocean or something. I can picture them all throwing in different ideas and elaborate plans about how to kill as many people and steal as many things as possible in one outing. Or just get revenge on who-knows-who, all the while drinking coffee and shooting firearms at each other.

You know how villainous drama can be—_somebody_ ends up getting shot and something _always _blows up… because that's just how they roll.

It's just like high school. There's no other comparison.

I _did _contemplate all this as I made my way through the city, trying to find my way around.

Something I just recently thought of doing while hiding from the government—oh, and I think I'm doing a _damn good _job at it, if I do say so myself (hear the sarcasm?)—was to stay in one spot long enough to figure out my way around. I know that if I learn the streets and landmarks of Jump, it would give me _some _kind of home field advantage over the GIW, if they were to ever find me here. By then, I would know this place well enough to mask myself and hide out until they leave, or until I could figure out how to escape.

It's not much of an advantage… but it's all I have.

I trudged down an all but empty street on a stormy day. I'm in a part of town I have never been to before, although it's near my temporary home. I don't want to venture too far out, since Cujo's not with me, at the moment. As it turns out, the big, bad, scary ghost dog is afraid of thunder and he wouldn't leave the basement. So, I'm alone.

Not many people are here, and those that were, aren't paying me any mind.

With the blessed lack of attention, I know it's safe to discreetly use my powers. _Discreet,_ being that if you paid me close enough attention, you would see how my form barely flickered and gave out a slightly transparent hue. However, it's not enough of an oddity to be dismissed as anything but a trick of the light to any onlookers or clueless pedestrians that just might happen to glance my way.

If you are intently watching me, and if you know what you are looking for, you would see how I look like a particularly solid hologram. That's intangibility. I'm not using enough of it to pass through any solid objects like light posts, walls, or the ground or anything; just enough to allow the rain to pass through my form without drenching me.

The downpour is slowly letting up as I made my way down the unknown street. Other than the light _pit-patting _of the rain on the streets, this place is strangely quiet.

Looking around, I noticed how the buildings around me gave off a gothic aura. With their simple and understated designs, dark bricks, and deep colored signs, it really does give off an overall _dark _feel. It's not demonic, though. It's like night: dark, yet not _evil _or _bad _in any way.

Everyone gives each other space and everything is quiet, as well. No loudness or claustrophobia. No one is screaming, yelling, or honking just for the heck of it. The silence just hangs in the air. It's not tense or awkward or anything, it's just… _there. _It's dark and peaceful.

I loved it. It reminds me of _her._

I noticed a small store just ahead of me and I smiled. I know the Skulk and Lurk is a family owned business with a few other stores nationwide, but I would never have assumed that one of their few other stores would be here, in Jump City.

My thoughts started to wonder back to a certain girl who I know would _love _this bookstore if she were here. I let out a small sigh and decided to go in… if only for Sam.

A small bell chimes upon my entry, and a few gothic-looking teens look up form their books to examine the their new visitor. As if I passed a test, they resumed their earlier activities. My eyes went wide as I looked around.

Books are piled sky-high _everywhere. _I'm surprised, not by the sheer _amount _of books, but by the _arrangement _of the volumes. What if someone wanted a book from the very _bottom _of one of the gargantuan piles? Everyone within a twenty-foot radius would have to up and move,right? Then, of course, the colossal pile would turn into a colossal mess.

Although, I don't think that happens very often around here. The big, comfy-looking armchairs, love-seats, and couches sitting atop the fancy, deep colored and intricate rugs look _pretty heavy, _therefore, they would be a pain to move. Everyone looks so relaxed, as well. Like they have no idea of the impending danger that looms just above their heads. Maybe they had to sign a liability release upon coming in.

That must be it.

I spotted a seat next to a small fireplace near the back of the store for me to sit down. I shrugged to myself and began to walk over to it, figuring there is just as good a place as any.

I passed a certain bookshelf on my way over to the fireplace that caught my eye. Upon closer inspection, I found that it's the biography section. But one book in particular seemed to stand out among the rest. It only stood out because the book's relatively thin spine is split diagonally down the middle; one side's pitch black and the other's stark white. All the other books are just dull, dark colors... like faded burgundies and worn navy-blues.

This one in particular looks _newer _than the rest. Curiosity peaking, I changed course and grabbed the book form the shelf.

I examined the cover and blanched. It took nearly all I had not to choke and fall over at reading the title _"Phantom: The Story of a Hero". _You've _got _to be kidding me. No, really, this is all a big joke, right? _Right?_

I've been gone for over a year, just long enoughto completely skip over most of my Freshman and Sophomore summer breaks, along with my entire Sophomore year, and they've already made a biography about me?

This has to be a sick, twisted joke. Paulina, Starr, Dash, Kwan, and every other thick-skulled, Amity Park A-list douche and/or bitch probably teamed up to write this, justto mess with my head.

Clutching the book close to my chest, I plopped down in the armchair by the fireplace.

I have to read it. I have to see what complete load of shit they have said about me. I'm going to read my own biography. I never thought I would see the day where I'd hear myself say that. Or... _think _that.

I opened the book to the first page.

* * *

I've been reading this stupid book for a solid half-hour. It is all I could do to not laugh my head off. The "facts" listed here are so far off it's laughable. No, it isn't laughable. It's _hilarious._

This book describes me as a full-fledged, shape-shifting, ghost powerhouse that has saved the world multiple times. I guess the book isn't that far off with the _"saving the world multiple times" _part, because I _have _saved the world a few times— with the help of my friends. The world only _remembers _the Disasteroid.

I don't care so much about the "full-ghost" assumption, either. After all, that's kind of what I want the public to think. It wouldn't single me out so much if I'm labeled as "fully dead" rather than "half-dead". It would also keep any obsessive scientists off my back.

Well, that was the plan, anyways. It didn't really work out like that, though.

But the _powerhouse _part of my description kind of cracked me up. Sure, my energy grows stronger every day, and my body generates ectoplasm faster than most ghosts, but there's no way in hell I'm a _powerhouse. _And the shape shifting? I wish I can shape shift. I can change my hair and eye colors from black to white and from blue to green. It's not shape shifting— it's _identity forming. _

From there, the book seemed to get worse. Or better, depending on how you look at it.

Apparently, no one knows how I died, or what my true obsession is— although there are a lot of theories. According to this book, my friends and family wouldn't share any information with the authors about my "death", so with it was up to the authors to guess and assume.

There are a few theories. I raised an eyebrow at the first one.

The theory is that a ghost killed me. Then, in the afterlife, my obsession became protecting humans from my fellow, more malevolent ghosts— so the humans wouldn't die like I did. My expression turned thoughtful at the vision I'm getting. It is a logical— yet dead wrong— explanation.

I never thought anyone would give so much thought to my life and half-death. I thought people don't care about that. This really made me think about how much I missed. I was gone for just over a year, although, in the world today, it seems as though I've been gone for longer than that.

I continue to read through the different stories, and all of them have one common thread. I'm obsessed with saving people.

And yes, that, too, is wrong. I save people's lives because I think it's the right thing to do. I don't _have _to do it. Why does Dash play football? Because it's something he loves to do, and he's _good _at it. Can he quit if he so desires? Yes. Can I quit helping people if I wish to do so? Yes, in fact, I can. If I'm obsessed with it, then I wouldn't be able to stop. Saving people would be my drive, my sole reason for living.

Plus, according to my parents—_ahem, _the world-renowned ghost _experts—_an obsession, more likely than not, is your reason for dying and the last thing you thought about. For example, the Box Ghost. He died in a where house incident, and since then is obsessed with boxes (I asked him about his death once, a while back. He had been more than delighted to tell me _every excruciating detail_).

Do I have an obsession? Yes, I do. But, since I'm only _half _ghost, it's not as strong as it would be if I were a _full _ghost.

But… I shall say no more to you people, for _that _is my business, and mine alone.

Another section of the book lists my known powers and my ranking on the Ectoplasmic-Energy Scale. The Ectoplasmic-Energy Scale— or the EE Scale— is a general tool used to measure the power-levels of a ghost. A nearly powerless ghost, like an ectopus or Cujo in his puppy form, would be a 1, while a very powerful ghost, like Pariah Dark, would score a 10.

It made my shoulders quake with growing laughter at how they said I scored a good 9.0.

Last I checked, I'm a 7.9, although, since my powers aren't fully developed, that number is subject to change. After all, when I was fourteen, I was only a 7.

Whoever wrote this, though, really made me look like a ghostly, teenage Superman.

I laughed at the very thought. Lost in my thoughts, I don't notice the chiming of the store bell, and I don't sense the pair of eyes burning into my skull until the presence is right in front of me. I abruptly freeze, my blood turning to ice in my veins as my head snaps up to look at whoever was in front of me.

I sigh to myself in relief. It's one of the Titans. Mysterious Hooded Girl quietly stands in front of me, her deep-blue cloak draping heavily from her form, and the large ruby-like gem that holds the cloak together shined red in the dimly lit store. As usual, her hood is up, preventing me from getting a full look at her face.

"Um… Hi?" I'm a little hesitant. What am I supposed to say? Why is she even _here? _

"Danny Phantom?" Mysterious Hooded Girl spoke in a soft, alto monotone.

"Who wants to know?" I'm apprehensive.

With the way she cocked her head only slightly to the side, I knew she rolled her eyes. "Raven. I'm with the Teen Titans."

"Well, I knew that part." I smirk. Somehow, "_Raven" _seemed like a really fitting name for her. "It would be nice if I could see who I'm talking to, though." I told her, lifting an eyebrow expectantly.

Wordlessly, Raven pulled her hood from her head, her movements suggesting that she seemed to have forgotten that she was wearing it in the first place.

But, when she did, the mental resolve I had kept intact for damn near three weeks now nearly crumbled, sending my mind careening into the metaphorical ground.

It's not her pale, ashen skin that sent my mind into a PTSD state. It's not even her short, deep violet locks. It's her eyes that did it for me. They're violet eyes. They're _her _eyes. They're almost identical to the eyes that I can never get away from— the very pair of eyes that seem haunt my being.

_Sam's _eyes.

With that, I shattered, my mind dipping into a relapse.

A wave of memories and emotions crashed into my mind like a tidal wave. Images—sights, sounds, and feelings from my old life and recent nightmare raked my being. I clutch my head and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to keep the images at bay as my world spun.

One second, I am kissing Sam in the North Pole, our icy lips interlocking in what should have been an eternal embrace, but cut short by the looming threat of certain death and destruction over our heads. The next second, I am laying helplessly on a table as some scientist slices my arm open and pours some boiling, yellow chemical compound into the open wound. I'm forced to bite my tongue to prevent myself from screaming as the feeling of being torn apart from the inside out resurfaces in my mind.

I don'teven hear the gasp coming from the Titan before me as she saw what was happening.

Image, after image, after goddamn image flashes in my head. Feelings of pain and remorse flood my mind. After what felt like hours, but in reality was only seconds, the images and feelings desist, leaving an indescribable numbness and a sort of hazy fog in their place.

Giving my eyes one last squeeze and shoving what little remained of my past aside, I opened my eyes again, numbly trying to avoid Raven's violet gaze. Unfortunately, I had no success.

"Sorry," I said, trying to sound casual, "migraine. Can I help you with something?"

But Raven didn't answer right away. Her normally expressionless face is one of pure shock, like she had somehow sensed what all had happened in my head. I don't want to believe that, though.

I don't want to believe that she had somehow seen that.

Raven, upon realizing her shock could be seen on her face, shook the expression from her features and her gaze turned stony, her eyes falling flat. And I'm glad for that, too. Her eyes don't look so much like Sam's when they lose emotion like that.

"Migraine… sure." Raven deadpanned, disbelieving. "I wanted to ask you a few things… But if you can't... I can just—"

"No, it's fine," I plastered a fake smile on my face. I can feel the mental exhaustion already starting to weigh heavily on my mind. "Really. What do you want to know?"

Raven seemed a little surprised by my abrupt change in demeanor. Like being agreeable was the last thing she expected from me.

"Why did you come here?" Raven asked slowly, eyeing me suspiciously.

"As I told Beastboy, I'm passing through. Thought I'd take a little break while I'm here. Next?"

"Where were you?"

"Ghost Zone. You already know the answers to all of this, Raven. Why are you asking me?"

"Because I don't believe you." I raised my eyebrows at the cloaked girl's bluntness.

"You should believe me," I told her, "because that's what happened." In truth, my story wasn't a lie. I _was _in the Ghost Zone, after all. And I ended up here with the original intention of getting food and leaving.

Raven shot me a wary look, her achingly familiar eyes gaining a slightly lighter purple sheen.

I opened my mouth to further defend my case, when I suddenly felt something, like a foreign prescience of sorts, deep in the back of my mind. If I can compare my mind to a house in the middle of nowhere, it felt like someone's trying to gaze through the windows, attempting to watch the happenings inside. It gave me the chills, which is hard to do, seeing that I'm a half-ghost with cytokinesis.

Now, unlike most people who would have shaken off the feeling as a case of nervous heebie-jeebies, or maybe would have dismissed it as nothing, I recognized it almost immediately. After being controlled by Freakshow, I can name this feeling from a mile away. I shook my head and gave Raven a weak glare.

In my head, I shoved all my memories to the furthest possible corners of my mind and tried to shield them with the best mental barriers I could manage on the spot. But… the prescience is still there. It stubbornly refused to leave. Sighing internally, I allowed one thought, and one alone, to run through my mind, screaming it in my head for all to hear. _'Nice try, telepath. Get OUT of my head!"_

Raven quietly gasped in front of me, her prescience in my mind abruptly vanishing as I metaphorically kicked her out.

Raven's eyes are wide as she frantically searched my own. "P-Phantom… h-how—how did you know?"

I smirked at her, "First, it's Danny. Second, I've been around the block a few times when it comes to telepathy. Really, Raven, it's not that hard to spot."

Still a little shocked, Raven nodded slowly.

"Look," I told her, "I will tell you what I _want _you to know, and in my head, I'll show you what I _want _you to see. Got it?"

Raven raised her hands, "Fair enough."

A tense, awkward silence fell between us. I cleared my throat and said, "Look, if there's nothing else you need to ask me, I have a question of my own."

Raven cocked an eyebrow, waiting.

"Well, I've noticed that there aren't any… _major _villains in this city. All I've seen are a few thieves and gangsters. I mean, since you guys are a team of super heroes, I guess I just figured that there would be a lot more serious criminal activity. But… there isn't. Why?"

Raven shrugged, "There _was _a lot of activity_._ But we took care of them with the rest of the Brotherhood of Evil a little while ago."

I raised an eyebrow in confusion, not knowing what she's talking about.

The telepath rolled her eyes, "Right. A bunch of different bad guys teamed up and formed a huge organization in France. They tried to take over the world, but we stopped them."

I nodded, suddenly wishing I were there. "So what happened?"

"There was a freezing chamber in the Brotherhood's headquarters. We froze pretty much everyone in the organization."

I cringed. "You _froze _them? Everyone?"

Raven shot me a suspicious look, "Yes…"

"Did these criminals have powers?" I asked carefully.

"Most," said Raven, her expression becoming slightly confused.

I blanched a little. What were these people _thinking? _

"You do know that if any one of them had cytokinesis, they would all escape, right?"

The telepath blinked, a look of confusion crossing her face. Apparently, she hadn't thought of that before. "I don't know how that's possible. If they're frozen, they're frozen. They can't do anything about it.

I sighed. I knew very well that it was more than possible for someone who can control ice to escape being frozen. After all, I can't tell you how many times the GIW have tried to freeze me in a block of solid ice, to test my resistance to my element. Needless to say, ice went flying everywhere, and I was suddenly freed and surrounded by a bunch of frozen government agents.

"Check." I told her firmly. "I need you to go and make _sure _you're right."

Still expressionless, Raven nodded. I knew she didn't believe me, but when it does happen and they _do _escape, I'll be happy to say, _"I told you so". _

I opened my mouth and yawned, big and wide, mentally exhausted from my attack earlier. I stood up, ready to take my leave. "I'm exhausted. So... I guess I'll catch you later?"

She gave me a nod, "Sure. It's nice to meet you… _Danny."_

I grinned at her and started to walk away. But, Raven's next quiet words made me stop. "Thank you, Danny. For helping this city. It's really… _good _of you."

"Don't thank me," I smiled, "I'm just trying to help."

With that, I left the Skulk and Lurk. But right as I exited the building, I cast a glance over my shoulder at the violet-eyed heroine. But what I saw, I almost couldn't believe.

Raven's smiling at my back. Not creepily, mind you. It was just a small half-smile, one side of her lips barely perking upwards. On anyone but her, I would have ignored it. But… I think that's the first real, positive facial expression I'd seen on her.

She's smiling, or half-smiling, in such a way that made me feel as if I passed some sort of test.

Luckily, I've learned to read facial expressions like an open book. My past and, well, my current _situation _called for some good facial and character analyses, to possibly predict that person's thoughts and/or intentions. So, I'm able to get a lot from Raven's small expression.

But that smile… there was something _more _to it. It was like there was a hidden message that read, "We could be friends… if you want…"

Seeing that I was looking, the small smile vanished from the telepath's face, and her expression turned stoney, once again. I gave her a small wave, and then finally took my leave.

Or, that's what I wanted her to believe. I quickly rounded the corner of the bookshop and willed my body to slip into invisibility and intangibility. Just as quickly, I phased back into the store.

I don't know if it was a mere coincidence that Raven and I crossed paths, or if it was planned. I don't know how many of my thoughts she may have seen, if any at all. I need to know if she was going to report any newfound information to Robin… or someone even less friendly.

After all, with all the connections the Teen Titans have, it would genuinely surprise me if they didn't hold a place in the government, _somewhere. _

In the government, news travels like wild-fire. This was something I didn't look into or even really _think _about with my meeting with Beastboy.

And, in truth, I really need to wise up if I want to keep my newly found freedom—now, more than ever.

I spotted Raven by the fireplace, right were I left her. I ended up getting pretty close to her, maybe ten, fifteen feet away. She hasn't sensed my presence yet, and for that, I'm immensely thankful. I would have preferred to be closer, but I don't dare move an inch towards her, for fear of getting caught. Instead, I focused my advanced eyesight and hearing solely on her. That same smile still adorned her features.

"Well," I heard her mutter to herself, "What do you know… Beastboy was right."

I blinked. What was she talking about? I shrugged it off and watched as she plopped down into the armchair I had just left not minutes before. Raven opened the large book she was holding and began to read, just like the few other quiet adolescents here.

I assumed there's no danger here if she hasn't reported me by now. I was about to turn around when suddenly, something on her belt started to blink a harsh red color and a sharp _beep, beep, beeping _rang throughout the bookstore, startling some other costumers. Raven unhooked whatever the thing was from her jeweled belt under her cloak and flipped it open in front of her.

The device was a round, yellow… _thing. _Maybe a yellow… communicator of some sort? There was also a big, black T engraved on the back. The thing looked a little like a futuristic walkie-talkie.

"What?" I heard Raven quietly speak into it, confirming my belief that it was, in fact, a communicator.

_"Raven" _A muffled voice sounded from the device. I immediately knew it was Robin.

Although the few people around the store noticed Raven's device going off, no one really paid it any mind. They all acted as if it were a regular occurrence—which, if Raven comes here as often as I think she does—it was.

_"Where are you guys?" _Robin's voice sounded irritated and somewhat frantic.

"Giving you some space after your little episode," Raven retorted emotionlessly.

I smirked at the thought of Robin having a _little episode._

_"That doesn't matter" _Robin said. I could practically hear the scowl in his scratchy, computerized voice. _"But something's up. I just received two more S.O.S. signals. It's Thunder and Lightning. They're… _gone, _Raven. They fell of grid, just like Aqualad." _

My eyes widened, my jaw dropped, and my heart sank as one thing was confirmed.

I was right. And that's not a good thing.

"Well, that explains the storm," Raven said. Her expression was stoic but there was something akin to concern in her voice.

_"Right." _Robin responded, _"Look, get the others and meet me at Titans Tower. This is getting suspicious."_

"Rodger that." Raven snapped the communicator shut and stood. She reattached the device to her belt and, before I could even blink, somehow seemed to _melt _into the shadows and, in a flurry of darkness, teleported away.

Under other circumstances, I would have huffed in jealousy at that power. After all, I've tried to teleport for a while now, but I can't seem to get my body to do it.

That's under _other _circumstances. But now, my mind was reeling with the information I just discovered.

I think I've known this was coming for a while, but its severity it all didn't come crashing down on me until this moment.

This wasn't about_ me_ anymore, however self-centered that sounds. No, this story isn't going to end with _my _powers and_ my _life on the line.

No one's safe.

And with that thought, something else dawned on me:

_They never were. _

"Well," I said to myself as I phased out of the store and back into the alley. "Shit."

I walked out of the alleyway and towards my temporary home on Chilson Drive.

The problems that are sure to arise are still fresh on my mind, controlling my consciousness to the point where I couldn't even find the concentration to push my energy outside myself and allow the white rings of energy to wash over my form.

I was mentally exhausted. I just wanted to go home. So, the quiet, cackling laughter from somewhere within the dark, obscure folds of the alleyway's shadows didn't even register with me until it faded into nothing.

* * *

**Ooooomanis****! I had _way _too much fun with the biography. Also, I'm kind of surprised that no one picked up on how the storm abruptly stopped last chapter and then Robin got a call on his communicator right after. Huh. **

**Okay, I'm going to blather on about something I haven't discussed in this fic thus far: PARINGS! I'm not going to say what the pairing is, because there IS one. I honestly don't know why most authors do. It ruins the effect! Plus, you'll probably figure this one out on your own. It's pretty obvious. Oh, and I've hinted at Danny's obsession a few times. Think you can take a guess at what it is? **

**Also… I'M SOSOSO HAPPY RIGHT NOW! _LOOK_ at this! I have 143 favorites, 181 reviews, 202 followers, and 17,100+ hits! I honestly can't thank all you people enough! Special shout out to kuro-okami13 for being this story's 200th follower! Congrats! *Gives digital cookie*  
Well, that's all I got. Peace out =) **

**Random thought of the chapter: If identical twins marry identical twins, their children will be genetic siblings. **


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